UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
AT   LOS  ANGELES 


JS 


Huvtr^  f£.oJLJu^a  C^^-i'^U 


'U-^i*^^, 


THE    ATHENy€UM    PRESS    SERIES 

G.  L.  KITTREDGE   and   C.  T.  WINCHESTER 

GENERAL    EDITORS 


TTbe 
atbcna^um  press  Series. 

This  series  is  intended  to  furnish  a 
library  of  the  best  English  literature 
from  Ciiaucer  to  the  present  time  in  a 
form  adapted  to  the  needs  of  both  the 
student  and  the  general  reader.  The 
works  selected  are  carefully  edited,  with 
biographical  and  critical  introductions, 
full  explanatory  notes,  and  other  neces- 
sary apparatus. 


FLAXMAN'S    BAS-RELIEF   OF   COLLINS. 


.  |ilir,tojfrapll  of  tile  orijfinal  in  Chichester  Cathedral.     Tlie  poet 
.IS  rcadinj;  the  New  Testament  (sec  pp.  xxiv.  xxvi).  while  his 
on  the  Passions  lies  neKleited  on  the  tic.or. 


Htbena^um  press  Series 
THE 

Poems  of  William  Collins 


Edited  with  Introduction  and  Notes 


WALTER  C.  BRONSON,  A.M. 

PROFESSOR    OF   ENGLISH    LITERATURE    IN    BROWN    UNIVERSITY 


BOSTON,  U.S.A. 
GINN    &    COMPANY,    PUBLISHERS 


COI'YKIGHT,   iSgS/liV 

WALTER   C.  BRONSON 


ALL    RKIHTS    RESF.RVFD 


TO    MY    MOTHER 


I 


I 


Si 


426405 


PREFACE 


o:«4c 


The  need  for  a  new  edition  of  Collins  is  obvious.  Dyce's 
edition,  in  many  ways  so  admirable,  has  long  been  out  of 
print.  The  Aldine  Collins^  with  many  merits,  yet  leaves 
much  to  be  desired.  Of  the  other  current  editions  even 
the  best  lay  no  claim  to  originality  or  comprehensiveness, 
while  the  worst  are  almost  incredibly  careless  reprints  of 
careless  predecessors.  The  present  edition  is  at  least  of 
broader  scope  than  any  which  has  hitherto  appeared.  It 
contains  (i)  a  critical  text  carefully  transcribed  from  the 
original  editions ;  (2)  variant  readings,  with  their  sources 
and  comparative  value  set  forth ;  (3)  numerous  notes, 
including  a  good  deal  of  new  illustrative  material ;  (4)  a 
biographical  sketch  based  so  far  as  possible  upon  original 
records  (newly  verified)  and  the  statements  of  the  poet's 
contemporaries,  the  sources  and  their  relative  trustworthi- 
ness being  indicated  ;  (5)  a  comprehensive  and  systematic 
study  of  the  poetry  of  Collins. 

In  poems  which  exist  in  more  than  one  form,  the  text  that 
seems  to  represent  the  poet's  last  revision  has  been  adopted, 
other  readings  being  given  a  place  at  the  foot  of  the  page. 
The  capitalization  of  the  original  editions,  in  which  nearly 
every  noun  begins  with  a  capital,  has  been  abandoned  for 
modern  usage.  Punctuation  has  been  changed  as  little  as 
possible,  but  when  the  sense  required  I  have  not  hesitated  to 
repoint  freely;  in  the  few  instances  where  the  meaning  may 
fairly  be  considered  doubtful,  either  the  original  punctuation 
has  been  retained  or  the  change  has  been  recorded  in  the 


viii  PREFACE. 

notes.  Breathings  and  accents  have  been  affixed  to  quo- 
tations in  Greek.  In  some  of  the  odes,  divisional  headings 
have  been  supplied  where  they  were  omitted  in  the  original 
edition  or  were  indicated  by  figures  only.  Foot-notes  signed 
"  C."  are  by  Collins. 

It  is  a  pleasant  duty  to  acknowledge  my  obligations  to 
the  friends  and  strangers  who  have  aided  me  "in  this  work. 
To  the  authorities  of  the  Harvard.  University  Library,  of 
the  British  Museum,  and  of  the  South  Kensington  Museum 
I  am  indebted  for  access  to  original  editions  and  collateral 
material ;  to  the  curates  of  St.  Peter's  the  Great  and  the 
Church  of  St.  Andrew,  Chichester,  for  opportunity  to  exam- 
ine the  parish  records  of  Collins's  baptism  and  burial ;  to 
the  Warden  of  Winchester  College,  for  transcripts  of  the 
records  of  Collins's  admission  and  superannuation  at  that 
school,  with  other  particulars;  to  the  Vice-Chancellor,  the 
President  of  Magdalen  College,  the  Keeper  of  the  Archives, 
and  Professor  A.  S.  Napier, — all  of  Oxford  University, — for 
transcripts  of  the  university  records  regarding  Collins  and 
for  other  courtesies ;  to  Professor  Frank  M.  Bronson,  of  the 
Academy  of  Chicago  University,  for  the  translations  (not 
otherwise  accredited)  from  the  Greek  and  Latin,  and  for 
most  of  the  accompanying  notes ;  to  Professors  John  M. 
Manly,  Francis  G.  Allinson,  and  Joseph  N.  Ashton,  and  Mr. 
R.  E.  Neil  Dodge,  now  or  formerly  my  colleagues  in  Brown 
University,  and  to  Professor  Francis  B.  Gummere,  of  Haver- 
ford  College,  for  assistance  upon  sundry  points;  and  to 
Dr.  Daniel  H.  Fuller,  formerly  First  Assistant  Physician  in 
the  McLean  Hospital  for  the  Insane,  for  an  opinion  on  the 
causes  and  nature  of  Collins's  insanity.  To  Professor  George 
L.  Kittredge,  who  has  read  the  whole  book  in  manuscript 
and  in  proof,  I  wish  to  express  my  special  thanks  for  many 

valuable  criticisms  and  suggestions. 

W.  C.  B. 
Providence,  R.  I.,  Sept.  30,  1898. 


CONTENTS. 


oXKo 


INTRODUCTION 

I.   The  Life  of  Collins 

II.   The  Alleged  Neglect  of  Collins  in  the 
Eighteenth  Century    .... 

III.  Collins  and  Romanticism       .        .        .        , 

IV.  The  Poetry  of  Collins:  an  Appreciation, 


XXX 

xxxix 

Ivii 


APPENDIX 

A.  The  Structure  of  the  Odes    .....       Ixv 

B.  References  to  Collins  in  the  Eighteenth 

Century Ixxvi 

C.  Bibliography Ixxix 


POEMS 

To  Miss  Aurelia  C 

Sonnet 

Song 


ETC. 


Verses  Written  on  a  Paper,  etc.  . 

A  Song  from  Shakespear's  Cymbeline 

Oriental  Eclogues 

An  Epistle  Addresst  to  Sir  Thomas  Hanmer, 

' —  Ode  to  Pity 

L-^    Ode  to  Fear 

u     Ode  to  Simplicity 

*-'     Ode  on  the  Poetical  Character  . 

Ode  Written  in  the  Beginning  of  the  Year  1746 


3 
3 

3 
4 
6 

7 
23 
35 
36 
39 
41 
43 


3C  CONTENTS. 

VKGB. 


Ode  to  Mercy 
Ode  to  Liberty  . 
Ode  to  a  Lady 


44 
45 
51 


'^   Ode  to  Evening .        .  53  ^ 

Ode  to  Peace cc 

The  Manners c6 

\^    The  Passions y^ 

Ode  on  the  Death  of  Mr.  Thomson    ....  65 
An  Ode  on  the  Popular  Superstitions  of  the 

Highlands  of  Scotland 67 

NOTES 77 


INTRODUCTION. 


o>«<c 


I.     THE   LIFE   OF   COLLINS.^ 


William  Collins  was  born  at  Chichester,  in  the  south 
of  England,  in  the  year  1721.  He  was  baptized  on  Jan.  i, 
1722, ^and  the  tradition  is  that  his  birth  occurred  on  the  pre- 
ceding Christmas.  The  Collins  family  were  established  in 
Chichester  as  tradesmen  of  the  higher  class  in  the  sixteenth 
century.  It  is  said  that  Thomas  Collins,  mayor  of  the  city 
in   16 19,  was  a  direct  ancestor  of  the   poet.^     The   poet's 

^  The  quotations  from  Johnson  are  taken  from  his  life  of  Collins  in 
the  Lives  of  the  Poets.  The  quotations  from  Ragsdale,  T.  Warton,  and 
White  are  taken  from  letters  by  them.  White's  letter,  dated  Jan.  20, 
1 78 1,  appeared  first  in  The  Gentleman'' s  Magazine  for  January,  1781;  it 
was  there  anonymous,  but  in  the  Aldine  Collins  it  is  reprinted  from  the 
original  and  ascribed  to  White  on  evidence  in  the  manuscript.  The 
letters  of  Ragsdale  and  Warton  were  written  to  William  Hymers,  of 
Oxford,  who  was  collecting  material  for  a  new  edition  of  Collins ;  they 
were  first  printed,  after  Hymers's  death,  in  The  Reaper;  which  was  origi- 
nally published  (says  Dyce)  in  The  York  Chronicle  from  January,  1796, 
to  June,  1797,  and  was  reprinted  in  book  form,  though  never  published, 
in  1798.  The  letters  were  reprinted  (that  by  Ragsdale  shamefully  muti- 
lated) in  The  Gleaner,  edited  by  Nathan  Drake  (London,  181 1,  vol.  IV, 
pp.  475-484)  ;  Ragsdale's  letter  was  correctly  reprinted  in  The  Monthly 
Magazine  for  July,  1806.  Ragsdale's  letter  is  dated  July,  1 783.  Warton's 
letter  must  have  been  written  about  the  same  time. 

2  "  William  ye.  Son  of  William  Collins  then  Mayor  of  this  City  & 
Elizabeth  his  wife  was  baptiz'd  :  i  Jany." —  Parish  Register  of  the  Sub- 
deanery  Church,  otherwise  St.  Peter's  the  Great.  The  year  is  172 1  Old 
Style,  i.e.,  1722  New  Style,  as  the  entries  after  March  24  show. 

8  A  History  of  the  Western  Division  of  the  County  of  Sussex,  by  James 


xu  INTRODUCTION. 

father,  William  Collins,  a  hatter,  filled  the  office  of  mayor 
in  1714  and  1721.-'  He  seems  to  have  been  a  man  of 
some  property  ;  his  house  in  East  Street,  which  is  still 
standing,  is  a  large  and  substantial  structure  of  brick  and 
stone.  Collins's  parents  had  reached  middle  age  at  the 
time  of  his  birth,  his  mother  being  about  forty  years  old 
and  his  father  forty-seven.  Two  daughters,  Elizabeth  and 
Anne,  some  sixteen  and  fifteen  years  older  than  the  poet, 
were,  so  far  as  is  known,  the  only  other  children. 

It  is  probable  that  in  his  boyhood  Collins  attended  the 
prebendal  school  at  Chichester  ;  at  least,  such  has  long  been 
the  tradition  in  the  school.^  On  Jan.  19,  1733,  he  was 
admitted  to  Winchester  College  on  the  foundation,  receiving 
his  board,  lodging,  and  tuition  free.^  At  this  famous  school, 
in  the  venerable  cathedral  city  of  Winchester,  Collins  re- 
mained seven  years.  He  was  fortunate  in  having  for  school- 
fellows several  youths  of  more  than  ordinary  abilities  in 
literature.  Foremost  among  them  was  his  lifelong  friend 
Joseph  Warton,  a  respectable  poet  and  critic,  and  for  many 
years  head-master  of  Winchester  College.  Other  friends 
were  William  Whitehead,  afterwards  poet  laureate,  and  James 
Hampton,  the  translator  of  Polybius. 

At  Winchester  Collins  made  his  first  verses  of  which  we 
have  record.     It  is  said  that  when  twelve  years  old  he  wrote 

Dallaway,  London,  181 5,  vol.  I,  p.  186.  Dallaway  also  mentions  a 
Thomas  Collins,  sheriff  of  Sussex  from  1663  to  1683;  Henry  Collins, 
who  held  the  same  office  from  1702  to  17 14  ;  Roger  Collins,  incumbent 
of  the  Church  of  St.  Olave,  Chichester,  for  forty-five  years,  who  died 
in  1707. 

^  From  a  list  of  the  mayors  on  the  walls  of  the  council  chamber  at 
Chichester.  The  name  of  Thomas  Collins  occurs  in  1631  and  1646  as 
well  as  in  161 9. 

2  The  Aldine  Collins,  Tondon,  1894,  p.  x. 

2  "  Gulielm.  Collins  de  Chichester.  Com.  Sussex.  Bapt.  i  Jan.  1721. 
Adm.  19  Jan.  1733-" — Register  of  Winchester  College. 


INTRODUCTION.  Xlil 

a  poem  on  a  Battle  of  the  School  Books,  one  line  of  which 
was  remembered  long  afterwards : 

And  every  Gradus  flapped  his  leathern  wing.^ 

In  1739  two  short  poems  by  him  appeared  in  The  GeHtlema?i''s 
Magazine.'^  A  more  unmistakable  proof  of  his  poetical  powers 
was  the  Persian  Eclogues,  which  Joseph  Warton  says  were 
written  at  Winchester,  when  Collins  was  about  seventeen 
years  of  age. 

Of  the  poet's  scholarship  at  this  period  there  is  no  very 
certain  evidence,  but  it  seems  probable  that  he  was  a  bril- 
liant student.  Gilbert  White  (White  of  Selborne)  recalled 
that  he  was  "  distinguished  for  his  early  proficiency,  and  his 
turn  for  elegant  composition  "  ;  but  White  had  not  known 
Collins  at  Winchester,  and  was  writing  many  years  after  his 
death.  Johnson  says  that  "  his  English  exercises  were  better 
than  his  Latin";  but  also  that,  in  1740,  when  Collins  was 
ready  for  the  university,  "  he  stood  first  in  the  list  of  the 
scholars  to  be  received  in  succession  at  New  College,"  and 
the  statement  is  confirmed  by  White,  who  adds  that  Joseph 
Warton  stood  second  in  the  list. 

On  March  21,  1740,  Collins  was  entered  as  a  commoner 
on  the  books  of  Queen's  College,  Oxford,  and  the  register 
of  the  university  contains  the  record  of  his  matriculation  on 
the  following  day.^     It  is  not  known  just  when  he  went  to 

1  The  European  Magazine  and  Iondo7i  Reviezu,  December,  1795, 
p.  377.     The  reminiscence  is  anonymous. 

-  In  The  Gentleman'' s  Magazine  for  March,  1734,  in  the  register  of 
books  published  that  month,  is  mentioned  a  poem  on  the  royal  nuptials, 
by  a  William  Collins.  The  poem  has  never  been  found  ;  it  is  doubtful 
if  the  subject  of  this  sketch,  then  a  schoolboy  of  thirteen,  could  have 
been  the  author. 

2  "i7ff  .  ■  .  WilHam  Collins  Comi" Mar.  21." —  Entrance  Book 

of  Queen's  College.  "i7|j  Mar.  22  Coll.  Reg.  Gul :  Collins  18  Gul  : 
Fil:  de  Chichester  in  Com:  Sussexize.  Gen:  Fil."  —  Register  of  Matric- 
ulations of  the  University  of  Oxford. 


XIV  INTRODUCTION. 

Oxford  to  reside.  He  was  disappointed  in  his  hope  of  an 
election  to  New  College  (which  is  allied  with  Winchester 
College  through  their  common  founder),  as  there  happened 
to  be  no  vacancy  at  that  time  ;  but  on  July  29,  1741,  he 
was  admitted  a  "  demy  "  of  Magdalen  College,^  through  the 
influence,  it  is  said,  of  his  cousin  William  Payne,  one  of  the 
fellows.^     He   received    the  degree  of    B.  A.   on   Nov,    18, 

1 743-' 

Our  certain  knowledge  of  the  poet's  university  career  goes 
little  further  than  these  external  and  meagre  facts.  But  it  is 
a  probable  surmise  that  his  life  at  Oxford  was  a  mixture  of 
study,  indolence,  and  dissipation.  His  poem  The  Manners^ 
seems  to  hint  at  the  dissipation,  which  is  made  the  more 
probable  by  his  temperament,  his  way  of  life  in  London  soon 
after,  and  some  of  the  reasons  cited  below  for  his  leaving  the 
university.  His  college  friend  White,  however,  declared  that 
so  long  as  he  knew  him  Collins  was  "  very  temperate  in  his 
eating  and  drinking."  The  indolence  so  conspicuous  in  the 
poet's  character  when,  as  a  poor  author  in  London,  he  had 
every  incentive  to  industry,  could  hardly  have  been  absent 
in  the  leisure  of  academic  days.  In  fact,  Langhorne,  his 
first  editor,  says  that  "  during  his  residence  at  Queen's  he 
was  at  once  distinguished  for  genius  and  indolence  ;  his 
exercises,  when  he  could  be  prevailed  on  to  write,  bearing 
the  visible  characteristics  of  both."  *  But  in  spite  of  indo- 
lence and  dissipation  Collins  must  have  devoted  considerable 
time  to  study.     That  he  received  his  degree  after  the  usual 

1  "Anno  Domini  1741  .  .  .  July  29  ...  in  numerum  Semicom.  (vulgo 
diet  :  Demyes)  admissi  sunt  Vernon  .  .  .  et  Collins."  —  Register  of 
Magdalen  College. 

2  The  Aldine  Collins,  London,  1894,  p.  xv. 

3  In  the  Register  of  the  University,  among  B.A., "  Term°.  S^'  Michaelis 
1743,"  is  found  "Gul.  Collins  e  C.  Magd.     Nov.  18." 

*  Lines  9-12. 

®  Langhorne's  Collins,  London,  1765,  p.  vi. 


INTRODUCTION.  XV 

period  of  residence,  and  even  aspired  to  a  fellowship,  means 
little,  for  scholarship  at  Oxford  was  then  in  a  bad  way ; 
there  were  no  examinations  for  degrees,  and  fellowships  com- 
monly went  by  favor,  not  by  merit.  But  Johnson,  who  made 
Collins's  acquaintance  not  long  after,  has  borne  testimony 
that  he  was  "  a  man  of  extensive  literature,  .  .  .  acquainted 
not  only  with  the  learned  tongues,  but  with  the  Italian, 
French,  and  Spanish  languages." 

The  only  anecdote  regarding  the  poet's  life  at  the  univer- 
sity is  the  following,  narrated  by  White  :  "  It  happened  one 
afternoon,  at  a  tea  visit,  that  several  intelligent  friends  were 
assembled  at  his  rooms  to  enjoy  each  other's  conversation, 
when  in  comes  a  member  of  a  certain  college,  as  remarkable 
at  that  time  for  his  brutal  disposition  as  for  his  good  scholar- 
ship ;  who,  though  he  met  with  a  circle  of  the  most  peace- 
able people  in  the  world,  was  determined  to  quarrel ;  and, 
though  no  man  said  a  word,  lifted  up  his  foot  and  kicked 
the  tea-table,  and  all  its  contents,  to  the  other  side  of  the 
room.  Our  poet,  though  of  a  warm  temper,  was  so  con- 
founded at  the  unexpected  downfall,  and  so  astonished  at 
the  unmerited  insult,  that  he  took  no  notice  of  the  aggressor, 
but,  getting  up  from  his  chair  calmly,  he  began  picking  up 
the  slices  of  bread  and  butter,  and  the  fragments  of  his 
china,  repeating  very  mildly, 

Invenias  etiam  disjecti  membra  poetae." 

It  is  not  known  just  when  Collins  left  the  university.  His 
poem  addressed  to  Hanmer  is  dated  "  Oxford,  Dec.  3,  1743  "  ; 
he  probably  took  up  his  residence  in  London  soon  after.  Vari- 
ous reasons  have  been  given  for  his  leaving  Oxford  before 
the  expiration  of  his  demyship  ;  failure  to  get  a  fellowship, 
debts,  and  "  a  desire  to  partake  of  the  dissipation  and  gaiety 
of  London,"  are  mentioned  by  Mr.  Ragsdale,  who  made  his 
acquaintance  at  about  this  time.     The  following  words  by 


XVI  INTRODUCTION. 

White  throw  some  light  upon  the  poet's  life  at  the  university 
as  well  as  upon  his  reasons  for  leaving  it :  "  As  he  brought 
with  him,  for  so  the  whole  turn  of  his  conversation  discov- 
ered, too  high  an  opinion  of  his  school  acquisitions,  and  a 
sovereign  contempt  for  all  academic  studies  and  discipline, 
he  never  looked  with  any  complacency  on  his  situation  in 
the  university,  but  was  always  complaining  of  the  dullness 
of  a  college  life.  In  short,  he  threw  up  his  demyship,  and, 
going  to  London,  commenced  a  man  of  the  town,  spending 
his  time  in  all  the  dissipation  of  Ranelagh,  Vauxhall,  and 
the  playhouses." 

The  next  five  or  six  years,  during  which  Collins  resided 
in  or  near  London,^  were  the  great  period  of  his  life.  In 
them  he  wrote  nearly  all  his  best  poetry.  During  them  he 
enjoyed  the  friendship  of  such  men  as  Johnson,  Garrick,  and 
Thomson.  And  in  these  years,  too,  like  so  many  other  liter- 
ary adventurers  before  and  since,  he  suffered  the  distress  of 
poverty  and  the  bitterer  pangs  of  disillusion  and  unmerited 
neglect. 

Collins  came  to  London  with  high  hopes  and  gay  spirits. 
The  secluded  life  of  the  university  lay  behind  him  ;  before 
him  opened  the  world. ^  "  He  was  romantic  enough  to  sup- 
pose," says  White,  "that  his  superior  abilities  would  draw 
the  attention  of  the  great  world,  by  means  of  whom  he  was 
to  make  his  fortune."  Johnson  adds  that  he  had  "  many 
projects  in  his  head  and  very  little  money  in  his  pocket." 
He  was  soon  to  learn  that  the  Muse  was  a  poor  paymistress. 
Meanwhile  he  was  not  wholly  without  the  means  of  subsist- 
ence.    Ragsdale  says  that  the  poet's  uncle,  Col.   Edmund 

1  Of  his  lodging-places  there  is  no  record  save  the  statement  by 
White  that  "  he  lodged  in  a  little  house  with  a  Miss  liundy,  at  the  cor- 
ner of  King's  Square  Court,  Soho,  now  a  warehouse,  for  a  long  time 
together." 

2  See  The  Manners,  1-20,  75-78. 


INTR  OD  UC  TION.  X  vi  l 

Martin,  who  had  supported  him  at  the  university,  continued 
his  benefactions  for  a  time  in  London,  through  a  Mr.  Payne, 
who  had  charge  of  the  colonel's  affairs.  And  the  same 
friend,  who  evidently  needed  only  a  change  of  sex  to  make 
him  a  professional  gossip,  tells  a  story  about  the  young 
adventurer  which  reminds  one  of  Goldsmith  and  his  happy 
willingness  to  scatter  the  money  of  his  relatives  : 

"  When  Mr.  William  Collins  came  from  the  university,  he 
called  on  his  cousin  Payne,  gaily  dressed  and  with  a  feather 
in  his  hat ;  at  which  his  relation  expressed  surprise,  and 
told  him  his  appearance  was  by  no  means  that  of  a  young 
man  who  had  not  a  single  guinea  he  could  call  his  own. 
This  gave  him  great  offence  ;  but  remembering  his  sole 
dependence  for  subsistence  was  in  the  power  of  Mr.  Payne, 
he  concealed  his  resentment ;  yet  could  not  refrain  from 
speaking  freely  behind  his  back,  and  saying  he  thought  him 

a  d d  dull  fellow  ;  though,  indeed,  this  was  an  epithet  he 

was  pleased  to  bestow  on  every  one  who  did  not  think  as 
he  would  have  them.  His  frequent  demands  for  a  supply 
obliged  Mr.  Payne  to  tell  him  he  must  pursue  some  other 
line  of  life,  for  he  was  sure  Colonel  Martin  would  be  dis- 
pleased with  him  for  having  done  so  much." 

Somewhat  later,  apparently,  Collins  came  into  a  little 
property  of  his  own.  Ten  years  before,  in  1734,^  his  father 
had  died  in  embarrassed  circumstances.^  But  by  the  death  of 
his  mother,  in  July,  1744,^  Collins  inherited,  with  his  two 
sisters,  the  property  which  had  been  secured  by  his  mother's 
marriage  settlement  to  her  children.^  The  poet's  share,  how- 
ever, seems  to  have  been  small,  and  was  soon  gone. 

There  is  some  evidence  that  at  about  this  time,  before 
Collins  finally  decided  to  give  himself  wholly  to  literature, 

1  From  the  family  tablet  in  the  Church  of  St.  Andrew,  Chichester. 

2  So  Ragsdale  says. 

3  The  Aldine  Collins,  London,   1894,  p.  xvii. 


XVlU  INTRODUCTION. 

he  thought  of  entering  the  army  or  the  church.  It  is  said, 
but  upon  doubtful  authority/  that  he  visited  Colonel  Martin, 
then  with  his  regiment  in  Flanders,  and  that  his  uncle 
"  found  him  too  indolent  even  for  the  army,"  There  is 
more  reason  to  believe  that  Collins  had  all  along  been 
intended  for  the  church  ;  ^  and  it  is  reported  that  after 
returning  from  Flanders  he  took  steps  toward  obtaining  a 
curacy.^  If  the  poet  had  any  intention  of  taking  orders, 
it  was  soon  abandoned,  and  he  turned  to  literature  for 
support. 

Literature  could  be  made  to  yield  support,  even  in  the 
middle  of  the  eighteenth  century,  but  not  by  a  man  like 
Collins,  who  had  neither  the  popular  gift  of  Pope  nor  the 
resolution  of  Johnson.  "  He  designed  many  works,"  says 
the  latter,  "  but  his  great  fault  was  irresolution  ;  or  the  fre- 
quent calls  of  immediate  necessity  broke  his  scheme  and 
suiTered  him  to  pursue  no  settled  purpose.  A  man  doubtful 
of  his  dinner,  or  trembling  at  a  creditor,  is  not  much  dis- 
posed to  abstracted  meditation  or  remote  inquiries.  He 
published  proposals  for  a  History  of  the  Rei'ival  of  Learning ; 
and  I  have  heard  him  speak  with  great  kindness  of  Leo  the 
Tenth,  and  with  keen  resentment  of  his  tasteless  successor. 
But  probably  not  a  page  of  his  history  was  ever  written.  He 
planned  several  tragedies,  but  he  only  planned  them.  He 
wrote  now-and-then  odes  and  other  poems,  and  did  some- 
thing, however  little." 

There  follows,  in  Johnson's  life  of  the  poet,  an  anecdote 
which,  like  the  parallel  story  about  Goldsmith,  shows  Johnson 

^  History  of  Chichester,  by  Alexander  Hay,  Chichester,  1804,  p.  527. 
Favvkes  and  Woty's  Poetical  Calendar  (December,  1763)  and  Langhorne 
place  the  visit  later,  shortly  before  Colonel  Martin's  death. 

2"  His  father  .  .  .  intended  him  for  the  service  of  the  church;  and 
with  this  view  ...  he  was  admitted  a  scholar  of  .  .  .  Winchester  Col- 
lege."—  Langhorne's  Collins,  London,  1765,  p.  v. 

3  Hay's  Chichester,  Chichester,  1804,  p.  527. 


INTR  OD  UC  TION.  xix 

to  us  as  the  Mr.  Greatheart  of  poor  literary  pilgrims  in  "  the 
wilderness  of  this  world."  "  By  degrees,"  says  Johnson,  "I 
gained  his  confidence  ;  and  one  day  was  admitted  to  him 
when  he  was  immured  by  a  bailiff,  that  was  prowling  in  the 
street.  On  this  occasion  recourse  was  had  to  the  booksel- 
lers, who,  on  the  credit  of  a  translation  of  Aristotle's  Foeticks, 
which  he  engaged  to  write  with  a  large  commentarj^,  advanced 
as  much  money  as  enabled  him  to  escape  into  the  country. 
He  showed  me  the  guineas  safe  in  his  hand."  A  recent 
French  critic  remarks  upon  the  incident,  with  delicate  humor, 
"  C'est  peut-etre  I'unique  fois  qu'Aristote  ait  rendu  ce  ser- 
vice a  un  lettre."  ^ 

In  such  untoward  circumstances  Collins  composed  the 
poems  which  have  secured  him  lasting  fame,  although  even 
these,  if  Ragsdale's  statement  can  be  trusted,  were  written 
for  the  purpose  of  getting  money.  "  To  raise  a  present  sub- 
sistence he  set  about  writing  his  odes  ;  and,  having  a  gen- 
eral invitation  to  my  house,  he  frequently  passed  whole  days 
there,  which  he  employed  in  writing  them,  and  as  frequently 
burning  what  he  had  written,  after  reading  them  to  me  : 
many  of  them,  which  pleased  me,  I  struggled  to  preserve,  but 
without  effect  ;  for,  pretending  he  w^ould  alter  them,  he  got 
them  from  me  and  thrust  them  into  the  fire."  The  poet's 
literary  fastidiousness  is  mentioned  also  by  Thomas  Warton, 
who  says  :  "  I  have  seen  all  his  odes,  already  published,  in  his 
own  handwriting ;  they  had  the  marks  of  repeated  correc- 
tion :  he  was  perpetually  changing  his  epithets." 

CoUins's  earlier  intention  was  to  publish  his  odes  jointly 
with  those  of  his  friend  Joseph  Warton.  This  appears  from 
a  letter  written  by  the  latter  to  Thomas  Warton,  in  which  he 
says :  "  Collins  met  me  in  Surrey,  at  Guildford  races,  when 
I  wrote  out  for  him  my  odes,  and  he  likewise  communicated 
some  of  his  to  me  ;  and  being  both  in  very  high  spirits  we 

^  £mile  Montegut,  Ileures  de  Lecture  d'un  Critique,  Paris,  1891,  p.  183. 


XX  INTRODUCTION. 

took  courage,  resolved  to  join  our  forces,  and  to  publish  them 
immediately.  .  .  ,  Collins  is  not  to  publish  the  odes  unless 
he  gets  ten  guineas  for  them."  ^ 

The  plan  of  joint  publication  was  for  some  reason  aban- 
doned, and  the  poems  of  the  two  friends  appeared  separately 
in  December,  1746.  Warton's  little  book  went  to  a  second 
edition  in  the  next  year.*^  Collins's  odes  fell  flat,  and  the 
best  efiforts  of  his  publisher  could  not  work  off  the  edition 
of  a  thousand  copies.^  How  great  was  the  disappointment 
of  the  proud  and  sensitive  author  we  could  easily  imagine, 
even  if  there  had  not  come  down  to  us  the  story  that,  "con- 
ceiving a  just  indignation  against  a  blind  and  tasteless  age," 
he  "'  burnt  the  remaining  copies  with  his  own  hands." 

But  although  the  odes  did  not  catch  the  popular  ear,  they 
could  hardly  fail  to  raise  the  poet's  reputation  among  men  of 
letters.  In  particular,  Collins  seems  to  have  been  intimate 
with  Thomson  during  the  year  and  a  half  between  the  publi- 
cation of  the  odes  and  Thomson's  death.  It  is  said  that  he 
took  lodgings  at  Richmond  and  entered  that  jovial  circle  of 
friends  some  of  whose  portraits  Thomson  sketched  in  The 
Castle  of  Indolence.''     The  memorial  verses  by  Collins,  pub- 

1  John  Wooll's  Memoirs  of  J.  Warton,  London,  1806,  p.  14,  foot-note.  • 
The  letter  is  undated.    It  cannot  he  earlier  than  May,  1745,  for  it  refers  to 
the  ode  on  the  death  of  Colonel  Ross,  who  fell  at  Fontenoy  in  that  month  ; 
nor  later  than  June,  1746,  when  the  ode  was  published  in  Dodsley's 
Altisenm. 

^  Odes  on  Various  Subjects,  by  Joseph  Warton,  2d  ed.,  London,  1747. 

8  Langhorne's  fling  at  the  publisher  as  "a  favourer  of  genius,  when 
once  it  has  made  its  way  to  fame"  brought  out  a  reply  in  The  Monthly 
Review  (vol.  XXXII,  p.  294)  that  "  the  book.seller  actually  purchased  the 
copy,  at  a  very  handsome  price  (for  those  times),  and,  at  his  own 
expence  and  risk,  did  all  in  his  power  to  introduce  Mr.  Collins  to  the 
notice  of  the  public."  Langhorne  removed  the  sentence  in  subsequent 
editions. 

*  Langhorne's  Collins,  London,  1765,  p.  xi. 

^  The  Aldine  Collins,  London,  1894,  p.  xxiii. 


INTRODUCTION.  xxi 

lished  the  year  after  Thomson's  death,  certainly  bear  the 
hnpress  of  personal  love  and  grief. 

The  days  of  CoUins's  poverty  were  novi^  drawing  to  a 
close.  In  April,  1749,  Colonel  Martin  died,^  and  left  to  the 
poet  about  ^2000,  "a  sum,"  says  Johnson,  "which  Collins 
could  scarcely  think  exhaustible,  and  which  he  did  not  live 
to  exhaust."  Soon  afterwards  he  seems  to  have  left  London 
and  taken  up  his  residence  in  his  native  city.^ 

Of  Collins's  literary  labors  and  plans  in  these  days  of 
newly  acquired  competence  and  ease  there  are  several  hints. 
His  last  poem  which  has  been  preserved,  the  Ode  on  the 
Popular  Superstitions  of  the  Highlands  of  Scotland,  was  occa- 
sioned by  a  friend's  return  to  Scotland,  toward  the  end  of 
the  year  1749,  and  evidently  was  composed  at  about  that 
time.  The  following  letter^  is  interesting  both  for  its  refer- 
ence to  another"  ode,  which  has  never  been  discovered,  and 
also  because  it  is  the  only  extant  letter  from  the  poet's 
hand.  It  refers  to  a  musical  performance  of  The  Passions, 
and  is  addressed  to  Dr.  William  Hayes,  Professor  of  Music 
in  Oxford  University. 

"Sir, 

"  Mr.  Blackstone,  of  Winchester,  some  time  since  informed 
me  of  the  honour  you  had  done  me  at  Oxford  last  summer  ; 
for  which  I  return  you  my  sincere  thanks.     I  have  another 

1  T/ic  Gentleman'' s  Mai^azine,  April,  1749,  register  of  deaths. 

2  See  Clollins's  letter,  p.  xxii  and  T.  Warton's  letter,  p.  xxiv. 

^  Printed  in  Seward's  Supplement  to  Anecdotes  of  Some  Distinguished 
Persons,  London,  1797,  p.  123,  where  it  is  preceded  by  this  statement: 
"The  following  letter  .  .  .  to  Dr.  Hayes  .  .  .  was  permitted  to  deco- 
rate this  Collection,  by  the  kindness  of  his  son.  .  .  .  The  music  of  the 
ode  to  which  it  refers  was  excellently  well  adapted  to  the  words.  The 
choruses  were  very  full  and  majestic,  and  the  airs  gave  completely  the 
spirit  of  the  Passions  which  they  were  intended  to  imitate." 


XXU  INTRODUCTION. 

more  perfect  copy  of  the  Ode  ;  which,  had  I  known  your 
obliging  design,  I  would  have  communicated  to  you. 

"  Inform  me  by  a  line,  if  you  should  think  one  of  my 
better  judgement  acceptable.  In  such  case  I  could  send 
you  one  written  on  a  nobler  subject ;  and  which,  tho'  I  have 
been  persuaded  to  bring  it  forth  in  London,  I  think  more 
calculated  for  an  audience  in  the  University.  The  subject 
is  the  Music  of  the  Grecian  Theatre  ;  in  which  I  have,  I 
hope  naturally,  introduced  the  various  characters  with  which 
the  chorus  was  concerned,  as  Q£dipus,  Medea,  Electra, 
Orestes,  etc.,  etc.  The  composition,  too,  is  probably  more 
correct,  as  I  have  chosen  the  ancient  Tragedies  for  my  models, 
and  only  copied  the  most  affecting  passages  in  them. 

"  In  the  mean  time,  you  would  greatly  oblige  me  by  send- 
ing the  score  of  the  last.  If  you  can  get  it  wTitten,  I  will 
readily  answer  the  expence.  If  you  send  it  with  a  copy  or 
two  of  the  Ode  (as  printed  at  Oxford)  to  Mr.  Clarke,  at 
Winchester,  he  will  forward  it  to  me  here. 

"  I  am.  Sir,  with  great  respect, 

"  Your  obliged  humble  servant, 

"  Chichester,  Sussex,  "  William   Collins. 

"Novembers,  1750. 

"  P.  S.  Mr.  Clarke  past  some  days  here  while  Mr.  Worgan 
was  with  me ;  from  whose  friendship,  I  hope,  he  will  receive 
some  advantage." 

Other  poems,  of  uncertain  date,  may  for  convenience  be 
mentioned  at  this  point.  "  He  also  shewed  us,"  writes 
Thomas  Warton,  speaking  of  the  year  1754,  ''another  ode, 
of  two  or  three  four-lined  stanzas,  called  The  BcII of  Arragoii; 
on  a  tradition  that,  anciently,  just  before  a  king  of  Spain 
died,  the  great  bell  of  the  cathedral  of  Sarragossa,  in  Arra- 
gon,  tolled  spontaneously.     It  began  thus  : 


INTRODUCTION.  xxiu 

'  The  bell  of  Arragon,  they  say, 

'  Spontaneous  speaks  the  fatal  day,'  etc. 

Soon  afterwards  were  these  lines  : 

'  Whatever  dark  aerial  power, 

'  Commission'd  haunts  the  gloomy  tower.' 

The  last  stanza  consisted  of  a  moral  transition  to  his  own 
death  and  knell,  which  he  called  '  some  simpler  bell.'  .  .  . 
Dr.  Warton,  my  brother,  has  a  few  fragments  of  some  other 
odes,  but  too  loose  and  imperfect  for  publication,  yet  con- 
taining traces  of  high  imagery." 

Collins  had  not  lost  his  talent  for  projects.  In  1750  he 
proposed  to  Thomas  Warton  "a  scheme  of  a  review,  to 
be  called  The  Clarendon  Review,  and  to  be  printed  at  the 
university  press,  under  the  conduct  and  authority  of  the  uni- 
versity." When  it  is  remembered  that  the  reviews  of  the 
eighteenth  century  were  booksellers'  organs,  written  by  liter- 
ary hacks,  Collins's  idea  is  seen  to  be  original  and  bold. 
It  has  since  been  realized,  in  substance,  by  the  great  inde- 
pendent reviews  established  in  the  first  quarter  of  the  present 
century  ;  in  1750  the  project  probably  was  not  practicable. 
It  appears,  from  references  by  Thomas  Warton,  that  at  this 
time  Collins  also  resumed  his  purpose  of  writing  a  history  of 
the  Revival  of  Learning,  and  collected  many  scarce  books 
to  aid  him  in  this  labor.^ 

But  now,  in  the  midst  of  prosperity,  and  when  he  had 
hardly  reached  the  maturity  of  his  powers,  there  crept  into 
the  mind  of  the  poet  an  insidious  and  terrible  malady,  which 
darkened  all  his  remaining  days  and  made  him  one  of  the 
most  pitiable  of  men.  Collins's  disease  was  mental ;  but 
its  exact  nature  cannot  be  determined,  as  the  reports  con- 
cerning it  are  vague  and  sometimes  conflicting.  Apparently 
it  developed  slowly,  and  was  always  variable  if  not  strictly 
intermittent. 

1  See  p.  xl. 


XXIV  INTRODUCTION. 

Johnson  says  that  "  the  approaches  of  this  dreadful  mal- 
ady he  began  to  feel  soon  after  his  uncle's  death."  Thomas 
Warton  writes:  "I  often  saw  Collins  in  London  in  1750. 
This  was  before  his  illness.  .  .  .  About  Easter,  the  next 
year,  I  was  in  London  ;  when,  being  given  over,  and  sup- 
posed to  be  dying,  he  desireti  to  see  me,  that  he  might  take 
his  last  leave  of  me  ;  but  he  grew  better,  and  in  the  summer 
he  sent  me  a  letter  on  some  private  business,  which  I  have 
now  by  me,  dated  Chichester,  June  9,  175 1,  written  in  fine 
hand,  and  without  the  least  symptom  of  a  disordered  or 
debilitated  understanding."  Johnson  says  further  (and  is 
confirmed  by  Ragsdale)  that  "these  clouds  which  he  per- 
ceived gathering  on  his  intellects,  he  endeavored  to  disperse 
by  travel,  and  passed  into  France  ;  but  found  himself  con- 
strained to  yield  to  his  malady,  and  returned.  He  was  for 
some  time  confined  in  a  house  of  lunaticks."  Ragsdale  adds 
that  the  mad-house  was  in  Chelsea,  and  was  kept  by  one 
McDonald.  How  long  the  unfortunate  man  remained  there 
is  unknown;  but  by  September,  1754,  when  the  Wartons 
paid  him  a  visit,  he  had  been  removed  to  Chichester,  where 
he  lived  with  his  sister  Anne,  now  married,  in  a  house 
adjoining  the  cathedral  cloisters.^  Here  he  remained  till 
his  death. 

In  its  earlier  stages  the  poet's  malady  took  the  form 
rather  of  weakness  and  depression  than  of  derangement. 
Johnson  says  that  when  he  visited  Collins  at  Islington,  soon 
after  his  return  from  France,  "  there  was  then  nothing  of 
disorder  discernible  in  his  mind  by  any  but  himself  ;  but  he 
had  withdrawn  from  study,  and  travelled  with  no  other  book 
than  an  English  Testament,  such  as  children  carry  to  the 
school :  when  his  friend  took  it  into  his  hand,  out  of  curi- 

1  The  house  formerly  belonged  to  the  cathedral,  but  after  the  Refor- 
mation it  passed  into  lay  hands.  Its  front  door,  curiously  enough,  is 
in  the  outer  wall  of  the  cloister. 


INTRODUCTION.  XXV 

osity  to  see  what  companion  a  man  of  letters  had  chosen,  '  I 
hove  but  one  book,'  said  Collins,  'but  that  is  the  best.'" 
Johnson  adds  :  "  His  disorder  was  no  alienation  of  mind, 
but  general  laxity  and  feebleness,  a  deficiency  rather  of  his 
vital  than  his  intellectual  powers.  What  he  spoke  wanted 
neither  judgement  nor  spirit;  but  a  few  minutes  exhausted 
him,  so  that  he  was  forced  to  rest  upon  the  couch,  till  a 
short  cessation  restored  his  powers,  and  he  was  again  able 
to  talk  with  his  former  vigour."  This  agrees  with  Thomas 
Warton's  statement  of  his  condition  in  1754  :  "  He  came  to 
Oxford  for  change  of  air  and  amusement,  where  he  stayed  a 
month  ;  I  saw  him  frequently,  but  he  was  so  weak  and  low 
that  he  could  not  bear  conversation.  Once  he  walked  from 
his  lodgings,  opposite  Christ  Church,  to  Trinity  College,  but 
supported  by  his  servant.  The  same  year,  in  September,  I 
and  my  brother  visited  him  at  Chichester.  ,  .  .  The  first 
day  he  was  in  high  spirits  at  intervals,  but  exerted  himself 
so  much  that  he  could  not  see  us  the  second." 

But  it  is  evident  that  later  Collins's  condition  became  much 
worse,  and  that  at  times  he  was  violently  deranged.  White 
says  :  "  How  he  got  down  to  Oxford,  I  do  not  know  ;  but  I 
myself  saw  him  under  Merton  wall,  in  a  very  affecting  situ- 
ation, struggling,  and  conveyed  by  force,  in  the  arms  of  two 
or  three  men,  towards  the  parish  of  St.  Clement,  in  which 
was  a  house  that  took  in  such  unhappy  objects."  ^  The 
following  anecdote,  told  to  Thomas  Warton  by  the  clergy- 
man who  buried  Collins,  shows  that  even  to  the  last  the 
poet's  condition  varied  greatly  :  ^  "  Walking  in  my  vicarial 
garden  one    Sunday  evening,   during  Collins's  last   illness, 

1  This  distressing  incident  can  hardly  have  occurred,  as  the  editor  of 
the  Aldine  Collins  thinks,  during  the  visit  to  Oxford  in  1754,  or  Warton 
would  have  mentioned  it. 

2  See  also  the  first  passage  from  T.  Warton's  History  of  English 
Poetry,  on  p.  xl. 


XXVI  INTRODUCTION. 

I  heard  a  female  (the  servant,  I  suppose)  reading  the  Bible 
in  his  chamber.  Mr.  Collins  had  been  accustomed  to  rave 
much,  and  make  great  moanings  ;  but  while  she  was  read- 
ing, or  rather  attempting  to  read,  he  was  not  only  silent  but 
attentive  likewise,  correcting  her  mistakes,  which  indeed 
were  very  frequent,  through  the  whole  of  the  twenty-seventh 
chapter  of  Genesis." 

A  modern  specialist  on  insanity  ^  gives  the  following 
opinion  as  to  the  nature  of  Collins's  malady  :  "  He  was  evi- 
dently an  unpractical,  visionary  genius,  wanting  in  stability 
of  character  and  serious  purpose,  yet  with  a  fine-grained 
nature,  sensitive,  and  keenly  appreciative  of  the  beauty  of 
truth.  The  causes  of  his  mental  derangement  may  be  found, 
without  doubt,  in  these  congenital  characteristics,  in  the 
stress  of  poverty  and  worry,  and  perhaps  in  his  dissipation 
and  intemperance.  In  general,  the  testimony  points  less  to 
a  disorder  of  his  intellectual  faculties  than  to  a  disturbance 
of  his  emotional  nature.  While  the  picture  does  not  fall 
readily  under  any  of  the  well-defined  forms  of  insanity,  it 
appears  to  conform  most  closely  to  the  type  called  melan- 
cholia, and  to  that  form  of  melancholia  characterized  by 
periods  of  great  mental  pain  and  wild  agitation,  with  more 
composed  intervals  in  which  the  patient  exhibits  much  self- 
control  and  mental  clearness.  It  is  probable  that  the  poet's 
debilitated  physical  condition  during  his  last  years  was  due 
to  his  mental  disease." 

In  this  pitiable  state  Collins  lingered  until  June  12,  1759,^ 
when  he  died  in  his  sister's  arms.''  Three  days  later  he  was 
buried  in  the  parish  of  St.  Andrew.* 

^  See  Preface. 

2  From  a  tablet  erected  by  his  sister  in  the  Church  of  St.  Andrew. 

^  llie  Gentleman'' s  Magazine,  November,  1789,  in  a  notice  of  his 
sister's  death. 

*  In  the  parish  register,  among  the  burials  in  the  year  1759,  is  the 
entry:   "  June  15,  William  Collins,  Gent."     Mitford  (in  Dyce's  Collins) 


INTR  OD  UC  TION.  xxvii 

Collins  was  never  married,  and  there  is  no  certain  evi- 
dence that  he  was  ever  in  love.  There  is  a  tradition,  how- 
ever, that  he  loved  a  lady  who  did  not  return  his  passion. 
It  is  also  said  that  she  was  his  elder  by  a  day,  and  that  he 
wittily  remarked,  with  a  reference  to  his  unhappy  love-suit, 
that  he  came  into  the  world  "a  day  after  the  fair."  ^  It 
has  been  surmised  that  the  lady  was  the  Miss  Elizabeth 
Goddard  to  whom  the  ode  on  the  death  of  Colonel  Ross 
was  addressed.^ 

No  likeness  of  Collins  has  been  preserved  except  the  well- 
known  portrait  painted  in  his  fourteenth  year.^  In  Flaxman's 
bas-relief  of  the  poet,  on  the  tablet  erected  in  Chichester 
Cathedral  a  generation  after  his  death,  the  face  is  of  the 
same  general  type;''  but  it  is  not  known  what  originals  the 
sculptor  had,  or  whether  a  likeness  was  even  attempted.^ 
Johnson  says  of  Collins  that  "  his  appearance  was  decent 
and  manly."'  White's  statement  is  more  definite  :  "  He  was 
of  moderate  stature,  of  a  light  and  clear  complexion,  with 
grey  eyes,  so  very  weak  at  times  as  hardly  to  bear  a  candle 
in  the  room,  and  often  raising  within  him  apprehensions  of 
blindness."  Langhorne's  description  is  in  two  particulars  at 
variance  with  White's  :  "  Mr.  Collins  was,  in  stature,  some- 
what above  the  middle  size  ;  of  a  '  brown  '  [/>.,  dark]  com- 

says  :  "  Collins  is  buried  under  the  pew  in  the  church  [of  St.  Andrew], 
belonging  to  the  house  ;  a  stone  tablet  on  the  wall  above."  The  tablet, 
however,  which  also  records  the  death  of  several  other  members  of  the 
family,  does  not  say  that  the  poet  is  buried  beneath. 

1  Seward's  Siipple^nent  to  Anecdotes  of  Some  Distinguished  Persons, 
London,  1797,  p.  125.  In  The  European  JMagazine,  October,  1795, 
another  version  of  the  anecdote  is  given,  according  to  which  the  occa- 
sion of  the  pun  was  his  coming  into  a  town  the  day  after  the  lady  had 
left  it. 

2  See  p.  109,  and  the  variant  readifig  of  1.  37  in  the  Ode  to  a  Lady. 
■^  See  the  frontispiece  in  the  Aldine  Collins. 

*  See  frontispiece.  ^  See  p.  xxxiii. 


xxvill  INTRODUCTION. 

plexion,  keen,  expressive  eyes,  and  a  fixed,  sedate  aspect, 
which  from  intense  thinking  had  contracted  an  habitual 
frown."  ^ 

Collins's  personality  in  its  main  outlines  is  apparent  from 
the  foregoing  sketch  of  his  life.  A  few  details  maybe  added 
from  the  statements  of  his  friends.  White  wrote  of  him  that 
"he  was  passionately  fond  of  music,  good-natured  and  affa- 
ble, warm  in  his  friendships,  and  visionary  in  his  pursuits." 
Ragsdale  reports  that  "  he  was  an  acceptable  companion 
everywhere";  that  he  was  accustomed  to  make  "' diverting 
observations  on  the  vanity  and  false  consequence  "  of  the 
"  geniuses  "  who  frequented  the  coffee-houses,  and  that  "his 
manner  of  relating  them  to  his  particular  friends  was  ex- 
tremely entertaining."  Johnson  says  that  Collins's"  knowledge 
[was]  considerable,  his  views  extensive,  his  conversation 
elegant,  and  his  disposition  chearful."  He  has  faithfully 
recorded  that  in  the  first  stages  of  the  malady  which  clouded 
his  closing  years  Collins  "eagerly  snatched  that  temporary 
relief  with  which  the  table  and  the  bottle  flatter  and  seduce." 
Johnson's  summary  of  the  poet's  moral  character  deserves 
reprinting  once  more,  in  spite  of  its  formality.  The  manifest 
struggle  in  it  between  fidelity  to  truth  and  tenderness  for  the 
memory  of  a  dear  friend  reveals  Johnson  as  well  as  Collins, 
and  increases  our  confidence  in  the  accuracy  of  the  portrait, 
so  far  as  Johnson  could  understand  a  man  like  Collins : 

"  His  morals  were  pure,  and  his  opinions  pious  ;  in  a  long 
continuance  of  poverty  and  long  habits  of  dissipation,  it  can- 
not be  expected  that  any  character  should  be  exactly  uniform. 
There  is  a  degree  of  want  by  which  the  freedom  of  agency 
is   almost   destroyed  ;  and  long  association  with  fortuitous 

1  Langhorne  makes  no  mention  of  having  seen  Collins  ;  but  he  was 
writing  within  six  years  after  the  poet's  death,  and  had  many  literary 
friends  in  London,  some  of  whom  very  likely  had  known  Collins. 
White's  description  was  written  twenty-two  years  after  Collins's  death. 


INTRODUCTION.  xxix 

companions  will  at  last  relax  the  strictness  of  truth,  and 
abate  the  fervour  of  sincerity.  That  this  man,  wise  and  virtu- 
ous as  he  was,  passed  always  unentangled  through  the  snares 
of  life,  it  would  be  prejudice  and  temerity  to  affirm;  but  it 
may  be  said  that  at  least  he  preserved  the  source  of  action 
unpolluted,  that  his  principles  were  never  shaken,  that  his 
distinctions  of  right  and  wrong  were  never  confounded,  and 
that  his  faults  had  nothing  of  malignity  or  design,  but 
proceeded  from  some  unexpected  pressure  or  casual  tempta- 
tion." 

It  is  evident  that  Collins  was  a  good  deal  of  a  puzzle  to 
Johnson.  The  latter  saw  the  contradictions  in  his  friend's 
nature,  but  could  not  understand  them  ;  and,  truly,  in  his 
statement  of  them  the  contradictions  seem  irreconcilable. 
In  particular,  the  hint  that  Collins  was  sometimes  lacking 
in  truth  and  sincerity  is  inconsistent  with  Johnson's  warm 
admiration  for  his  character  as  a  whole.  The  attempt  to  lay 
the  blame  upon  bad  company  is  more  charitable  than  pene- 
trating. We  may  be  sure  that  a  more  subtle  interpreter 
would  have  seen  more  unity  in  the  poet's  sensitive,  imagina- 
tive nature,  and  would  have  found  the  key  to  passages  in 
his  life  which  the  sturdy  Moralist  could  only  wonder  at  and 
excuse.  But  on  the  main  question  we  may  take  Johnson's 
word  with  absolute  confidence.  Samuel  Johnson  had  an 
instinct  for  the  genuine  ;  and  he  accepted  Collins,  with  all 
his  mystery  and  contradictions,  as  a  lovable  and  true  man.-^ 

1  The  following  statement  is  worth  reprinting,  for  the  light  it  throws 
upon  the  poet's  nature,  although  it  may  be  unjust  to  his  sister.  The 
editor  of  the  Akiine  Collins  says  that  the  sister's  will  affords  evidence 
that  she  separated  from  Dr.  Durnford,  her  second  husband,  and  her 
step-son's  testimony  as  to  her  character  must,  therefore,  be  regarded  with 
suspicion.  "The  Rev.  Mr.  Durnford,  who  resided  at  Chichester,  and 
was  the  son  of  Dr.  D.,  informed  me  in  August,  1795,  that  the  sister  of 
Collins  loved  money  to  excess,  and  evinced  so  outrageous  an  aversion 
to  her  brother,  because  he  squandered  or  gave  away  to  the  boys  in  the 


INTRO  D  UCTION. 


II.     THE   ALLEGED    NEGLECT    OF   COLLINS    IN   THE 
EIGHTEENTH    CENTURY. 

It  is  the  common  impression  that  the  poetry  of  Collins 
was  not  appreciated  in  his  own  day,  and  that  it  lay  neglected 
and  almost  unknown  for  nearly  half  a  century  after  his 
death.  While  this  impression  has  some  foundation,  it  is 
far  from  being  the  precise  truth.  For  one  thing,  it  fails  to 
distinguish  between  appreciation  and  popularity.  Collins's 
poetry  was  not  popular  in  the  last  century.  It  cannot 
strictly  be  said  to  be  popular  in  the  present  century ;  but 
it  has  acquired  what  may  be  called  a  popularity  at  second 
hand :  it  has  taken  its  place  amid  standard  poetry,  Collins's 
name  is  coupled  with  Gray's,  and  people  feel  that  they  ought 
to  know  about  him  whether  they  do  know  or  not.  This  sort 
of  reflected  fame,  of  course,  did  not  come  to  Collins  at  once, 
although  its  beginnings  may  be  found  a  good  while  before 
the  end  of  the  last  century. 

In  the  matter  of  appreciation  by  a  chosen  few,  in  distinc- 
tion from  popularity,  the  main  difference  between  the  earlier 
and  the  later  view  is  that  Collins's  critics  in  the  eighteenth 
century  did  not  realize  the  significance  of  his  work  in  the 
historical  development  of  English  literature.  They  saw  many 
of  the  beauties  of  his  poems  considered  as  isolated  works  of 
art  ;  but  they  did  not  see,  and  could  hardly  be  expected  to 
see,  that  he  represented  a  transition  between  the  old  school 

cloisters  whatever  money  he  had,  that  she  destroyed,  in  a  paroxysm  of 
resentment,  all  his  papers,  and  whatever  remained  of  his  enthusiasm  for 
poetry,  as  far  as  she  could.  Mr.  Ilayley  told  me,  when  I  visited  him  at 
Eartham,  that  he  had  obtained  from  her  a  small  drawing  by  Collins; 
but  it  possessed  no  other  value  than  as  a  memorial  that  the  bard  had 
attempted  to  handle  the  pencil  as  well  as  the  pen."— MS.  note  by 
T.  Park,  Esq.,  in  his  copy  of  Collins's  poems,  afterwards  in  the  posses- 
sion of  Mr.  Mitford  ;   quoted  in  Dyce's  Collins,  p.  *39. 


INTRODUCTION.  xxxi 

of  poetry  and  a  new.  It  was  the  triumph  of  Romanticism  in 
English  literature  at  the  beginning  of  the  nineteenth  century 
which  brought  Collins  into  new  prominence,  and  established 
his  fame  on  a  broader  basis.  It  is  also  true  that  the 
roma-ntic  elements  in  his  poetry  were  those  least  relished  at 
first.  But  there  is  abundant  proof  that  Collins  was  appre- 
ciated fairly  well,  on  the  whole,  by  the  more  intelligent 
readers  in  his  own  century.  The  very  references  to  him  as 
"  neglected  "  prove  that  the  judicious,  at  least,  already  knew 
his  worth,  and  that  he  had  missed  rather  of  popularity  than 
of  appreciation.  In  particular  it  appears  that  relatively  too 
much  has  usually  been  made  of  Johnson's  obtuse  critique, 
and  of  Cowper's  ignorance,  until  late  in  life,  that  there  was 
such  a  poet  as  William  Collins. 

The  evidence  from  the  successive  reprints  of  the  poems 
may  be  found  in  detail  in  the  Bibliography}  It  is  clear  that 
there  was,  almost  from  the  first,  a  considerable  demand  for 
the  Eclogues.,  and  after  a  few  years  a  steady  though  moderate 
demand  for  the  Odes.  It  is  also  clear  that  some  time  before 
the  close  of  the  century  Collins  had  already  taken  his  posi- 
tion among  the  standard  English  poets,  although  he  was  not 
yet  sufficiently  distinguished  from  the  Wartons  and  White- 
heads and  other  small  fry. 

Analogous  evidence  is  that  furnished  by  the  musical  per- 
formance of  certain  of  the  Odes.  Reference  has  already 
been  made  to  the  performance  at  Oxford,  during  the  poet's 
lifetime,  of  The  Passio7is.  The  present  editor  has  recently 
discovered  that  the  Ode  to  Eve}ii?ig  was  also  set  to  music, 
and  performed  in  London  in  1785.  In  the  British  Museum 
is  a  manuscript  of  the  words  and  music-  with  the  following 
note  :  "  Performed  for  the  first  time  at  The  Academy  of 
Ancient  Music,  Free  Masons  Hall,  Great  Queen  St.,  Lincolns 

1  See  AppC7idix,  C. 

2  Add.  MSS.  27636,  f.  59. 


xxxil  INTRODUCTION. 

Inn,  April  14,  1785.  (By  request  of  Mr.  Butler.)  I.  W.  Call- 
cott."  The  manuscript  consists  of  twenty-six  pages.  A  list 
of  instruments  is  given,  showing  that  sixteen  were  used, 
besides  an  organ.  The  latter  was  played  by  Dr.  Cooke, 
the  organist  of  Westminster  Abbey ;  the  first  violinist  -was 
the  famous  Luigi  Borghi  ;  and  of  the  thirteen  singers  four 
were  well  known  in  their  day.  Altogether  it  was  a  distin- 
guished company.  At  the  end  of  the  score  is  the  entry,"  23 
minutes  long.     March  29,  1785."^ 

Another  class  of  evidence  consists  of  biographical  sketches 
and  other  memorials  of  the  poet.  These  are  scanty  ;  but  a 
partial  explanation  may  be  found  in  the  fact  that  on  account 
of  Collins's  mental  disease  and  his  secluded  life  he  was 
practically  an  exile  from  the  great  world  for  several  years 
before  he  died.  His  death,  in  1759,  apparently  was  not 
recorded,  at  the  time,  in  any  publication.  The  Biographical 
Dictionary,  published  in  London  in  1 761,  in  twelve  volumes, 
contained  no  mention  of  him.  The  earliest  biographical 
sketch  of  Collins  seems  to  have  appeared  in  The  Poetical 
Calendar  iox  December,  1763.  This  stated  most  of  the  facts 
with  some  accuracy,  although  giving  1756  as  the  year  of 
his  death,  and  concluded  with  a  sketch  of  his  character  by 
Johnson.  It  was  reprinted  in  The  Gentlemati' s  Magazine  for 
January,  1764.  Langhorne's  edition  of  Collins,  in  1765, 
contained  a  short  memoir  of  the  poet.  Johnson's  life 
of  Collins  (including  the  character-sketch  already  printed) 
appeared  in  1779  as  a  preface  to  Collins's  poems  in  The 
Efiglish  Poets.  Finally,  in  1789,  the  poet  obtained  honorable 
sepulture  in  the  Biographia  Britannica  in  an  article  of  several 
pages,  made  up  chiefly  from  Langhorne  and  Johnson,  with 
long  critical  eulogies  from  The  Monthly  Revieui. 

The  dust  of  the  poet  had  now  long  lain  in  his  native  city 

1  In  fairness  it  should  be  added  that  Joseph  Warton's  Ode  to  Fancy, 
set  to  music,  is  in  tlie  same  volume. 


INTRODUCTION.  XXXlll 

without  local  memorial  save  for  a  line  on  the  family  tablet 
in  St.  Andrew's  Church.  But  in  1789  steps  were  taken  for 
the  erection  of  a  monument  to  him.  In  The  Gentleman^s 
Magazine  for  December  of  that  year  is  a  letter  from  Chiches- 
ter, signed  "  W.  G.,"  announcing  the  project  and  inquiring  for 
portraits  of  "  the  venerable  poet."  ^  The  same  magazine,  in 
September,  1795,  contains  a  statement  that  the  monument 
has  been  erected  by  "public  subscription  ";  Flaxman's  bas- 
relief  is  described,  and  the  epitaph  follows.^  The  latter  has 
four  lines  which  are  especially  significant  for  their  bearing 
on  the  question  at  issue  : 

Strangers  to  him,  enamoured  of  his  lays, 
This  fond  memorial  of  his  talents  raise ; 
For  this  the  ashes  of  a  bard  require, 
Who  touched  the  tenderest  notes  of  pity's  lyre. 

The  critical  notices  of  Collins's  poetry  during  the  second 
half  of  the  last  century  are  more  numerous,  and  often  more 
enthusiastic,  than  is  commonly  supposed.^ 

The  earliest  known  estimate  of  the  Odes  is  from  the  hand 
of  Gray.  In  a  letter  written  a  few  days  after  the  Odes 
appeared,  he  speaks  of  the  author  as  having  "  a  fine  fancy, 
modelled  upon  the  antique,  a  bad  ear,  great  variety  of  words 
and  images,  with  no  choice  at  all."  In  view  of  Gray's 
fastidious  coldness  of  temperament,  this  is  no  mean  praise. 
His  opinion  that  both  Collins  and  Joseph  Warton  "  deserve 
to  last  some  years,  but  will  not,"  is  censure  of  the  public 
taste,  not  of  the  poetry. 

Shortly  before  the  death  of  Collins,  Goldsmith  wrote  of 
him  :  "  The  neglected  author  of  the  Persian  Eclogues,  which, 
however  inaccurate,  excel  any  in  our  language,  is  still  alive  ; 
happy,  if  insensible  of  our  neglect,  not  raging  at  our  ingrati- 

1  See  Appendix,  B. 

2  See  Appendix,  B,  for  more  extended  quotations  from  several  of  these 
notices. 


xxxiv  INTRODUCTION. 

tude,"  ^  The  reference  does  more  credit  to  the  writer's 
heart  than  to  his  knowledge  of  Collins's  poetry  ;  but  it 
shows  a  feeling  on  Goldsmith's  part,  and  doubtless  on  that 
of  his  literary  set  in  London,  that  the  poet  then  living  in 
pitiful  seclusion  at  Chichester  had  been  a  spirit  of  no  com- 
mon sort.^ 

The  Afojithly  Review,  a  leading  magazine  of  the  time, 
reviewed  the  second  edition  of  the  Eclogues  in  1757,  and 
the  Odes  in  1764  upon  their  republication,  not  long  before, 
in  T/ie  Poetical  CaleJidar.  Whatever  other  strictures  might 
be  made  upon  these  critical  performances,  they  cannot  be 
charged  with  lack  of  warmth.  In  the  earlier  notice  the 
Eclogues  are  called  "  beautiful  "  and  are  highly  praised  in 
detail.  Collins  is  referred  to  as  "  the  too  much  neglected 
author  "  of  the  Odes ;  and  these  are  credited  with  "  elegance  " 
and  "  picturesque  genius."  In  the  later  notice  Collins  is 
said  to  have  "  a  luxuriance  of  imagination,  a  wild  sublimity 
of  fancy,  and  a  felicity  of  expression  so  extraordinary  that  it 
might  be  supposed  to  be  suggested  by  some  superior  power." 
If  this  is  not  criticism,  at  least  it  is  rapture.  The  reviewer 
goes  on  to  say  that  Collins  "  will  indisputably  bear  away 
the  palm  from  all  his  competitors  "  in  lyric  poetry,  and  that 
he  "was  too  great  to  be  popular."  This  within  five  years 
after  the  poet's  early  death. 

The  next  year,  Collins  found  his  first  editor  in  the  person 
of  Rev.  Dr.  Langhorne,  himself  a  poet  of  some  grace.  The 
worth  of  the  reverend  gentleman's  praise  is  considerably 
damaged  by  the  abundance  of  it ;  occasionally,  however,  as 
in  the  following  sentence,  he  says  something  which  is  dis- 
criminative and  shows  real  appreciation  :  "  Milton  was  noto- 

1  Enquiry  into  the  Present  State  of  Polite  Learning  in  Europe,  Lon- 
don, 1774,  p.  107.     (The  first  edition  appeared  in  April,  1759.) 

2Cf.  Johnson's  letter  to  J.  Warton,  April  15,  1756:  "  What  becomes 
of  poor  dear  Collins  ?  .  .  .    That  man  is  no  common  loss." 


INTRO  D  UC  TION.  XXXV 

riously  fond  of  high  romance,  and  Gothic  diableries,  and 
Collins,  who  in  genius  and  enthusiasm  bore  no  very  distant 
resemblance  to  Milton,  was  wholly  carried  away  by  the  same 
attachments." 

Johnson's  criticism  of  his  friend's  poetry  is  painfully 
familiar  to  lovers  of  Collins.  But  the  bits  of  praise  half 
hidden  amid  the  censure  have  not  always  received  the  atten- 
tion they  merit.  Johnson  did  not  use  words  carelessly ;  and 
he  meant  all  that  he  said  when  he  wrote  that  Collins's 
poems  "  are  the  productions  of  a  mind  not  deficient  in  fire, 
nor  unfurnished  with  knowledge  either  of  books  or  life,"  and 
that  his  efforts  "  produced  in  happier  moments  sublimity 
and  splendor."  As  to  the  gross  misjudgment  in  the  critique 
as  a  whole,  every  one  knows  that  it  resulted  from  limitations 
in  Johnson's  personality  and  point  of  view.  But  it  has  not 
always  been  known  or  remembered  that,  at  the  time  when 
the  Lives  of  the  Poets  came  out,  Johnson  by  no  means  repre- 
sented all  England  in  matters  of  literary  taste.  The  rising 
tide  of  Romanticism  was  submerging  old  landmarks  ;  and 
even  those  critics  who,  like  the  Literary  Dictator,  still  stood 
for  the  older  tradition  did  not  always  endorse  his  judgment 
in  particular  cases.  It  is  easy,  therefore,  to  over-estimate 
the  historical  significance  of  his  condemnation  of  Collins's 
poetry  ;  and  this  has  commonly  been  done. 

A  different  phase  of  the  matter  is  brought  forward  by  Mr. 
Dyce.  He  says  :  "  In  a  manuscript  letter  by  Beattie,  in 
.my  possession,  written  immediately  after  the  publication 
of  the  Li7:es,  mention  is  made  of  the  severity  with  which 
Milton,  Gray,  and  even  Littleton  are  handled  by  Johnson, 
but  no  notice  is  taken  of  the  treatment  of  Collins."  Mr. 
Dyce  draws  the  inference  that  "  Collins  was  an  author  so 
little  known,  that  few  readers  were  aware  of  the  injustice 
of  the  doctor's  criticism  on  his  poetry."  ^  The  reasoning  is 
1  Dyce's  Collins,  p.  33. 


XXXVl  INTRODUCTION. 

far  from  conclusive.  Beattie  may  not  have  read  the  stric- 
tures on  Collins  at  the  time  of  writing,  or  there  may  have 
been  other  reasons.  This  negative  sort  of  evidence  is  at 
best  unsatisfactory,  particularly  when  it  is  limited  to  the 
silence  of  one  man  in  one  letter.  If  the  silence  had  been 
universal,  the  argument  would  be  strong  ;  but  it  was  not 
universal.  Whether  or  not  Beattie  knew  the  injustice  of 
Johnson's  criticism  on  Collins,  there  were  those  who  knew 
it  and  protested  against  it.  In  The  Gentlemari' s  Magazine 
for  January,  1782,  appeared  two  letters,  signed  "  Philo- 
Lyrister"  and  "  H.,"  defending  Collins  with  much  warmth. 
Philo-Lyrister  says  :  "  I  own  that  I  felt  myself  hurt  by  the 
liberties  which  he  [Johnson]  has  taken  with  two  of  our 
most  celebrated  lyric  poets,  viz..  Gray  and  Collins.  .  .  .  Let 
Dr.  Johnson,  with  all  his  erudition,  produce  me  another 
lyric  ode  equal  to  Collins's  on  the  Passions  ;  indeed  the 
frequent  public  recitals  of  this  last-mentioned  poem  are 
a  mark  of  its  universally  acknowledged  excellence."  The 
letter  is  the  more  significant  because  the  writer  professes 
to  be  an  admirer  of  Johnson  in  general ;  while  its  very 
commonplaceness  adds  to  its  value  as  testimony  upon  the 
point  in  hand,  by  showing  that  Collins's  fame  was  already 
spreading  beyond  the  circle  of  the  literary  elect. 

The  letter  by  "  H."  is  so  appreciative,  discriminating, 
and  scholarly  that  the  part  about  Collins  deserves  reprinting 
nearly  in  full:  "In  the  Elegy,  so  generally  thought  original, 
he  [Gray]  has  borrowed  much  from  a  contemporary  poet ;. 
whoever  compares  it  with  Collins's  Ode  to  Evening  will  find 
such  marks  of  particular  imitation  as  are  of  more  importance 
than  all  those  with  which  (jray  ornamented  the  bottom  of 
his  pages.  .  .  .  That  exquisite  stanza  which  once  concluded 
the  Ehgy  ...  is  still  more  immediately  borrowed  from 
Collins  than  any  of  the  rest  ;  the  original  passage  is  in 
the  Dirge  in  Cjmi'e/ine.  .  .  .     Collins  has  had  the  misfortune 


INTRODUCTION.  xxxvii 

not  to  please  Dr.  J.  [Johnson].  His  works  also  are 
encumbered  with  a  mass  of  absurd  criticisms,  written 
by  his  editor  Langhorne,  only  to  piece  out  a  volume,  and 
his  four  eclogues  are  mere  trash  ;  yet  a  part  of  his  odes 
will,  notwithstanding,  command  the  admiration  of  mankind, 
as  long  as  poetical  genius  or  poetical  taste  shall  remain  in 
the  world." 

These  two  letters,  appearing  in  one  magazine  in  the 
same  month,  and  called  forth  by  an  admiration  for  Collins's 
poetry  which  would  not  allow  Johnson's  harsh  verdict  to  go 
unchallenged,  must  represent  like  sentiments  held  by  many 
readers  of  the  Eclogues  and  the  Odes.  They  far  outweigh 
the  negative  evidence  from  Beattie's  silence.  The  case  is 
different,  however,  with  Cowper's  reference  to  Collins  in  a 
letter  to  Newton,  on  March  19,  1784.  His  words  are  :  "  A 
poet  of  no  great  fame,  —  of  whom  I  did  not  know  that  he 
existed  till  I  found  him  there  [in  Johnson's  Lives^  .  .  . 
His  name  was  Collins."  But  it  should  be  remembered  that 
Cowper's  circumstances  were  exceptional.  His  early  years, 
it  is  true,  had  been  spent  in  the  world ;  but  at  that  time 
Collins  was  little  known.  Cowper's  madness,  and  the  mor- 
bid religiousness  which  followed,  transformed  the  elegant 
trifler  of  the  Inner  Temple  into  a  pious  recluse.  In  the 
atmosphere  of  strong  theology  and  weak  tea  in  which 
Cowper  henceforth  passed  his  days,  he  was  not  likely  to 
make  the  acquaintance  of  a  semi-pagan  poet  of  limited 
popularity.  In  fact  when  Cowper  did  hear  of  Collins  at 
last,  his  interest  in  him  was  not  literary  but  religious.^ 

1  "  I  have  lately  finished  eight  volumes  of  Johnson's  Prefaces,  or 
Lives  of  the  Poets.  In  all  that  number  I  observe  but  one  man,  —  a 
poet  of  no  great  fame,  —  of  whom  I  did  not  know  that  he  existed  till  I 
found  him  there,  whose  mind  seems  to  have  had  the  slightest  tincture 
of  religion  ;  and  he  was  hardly  in  his  senses.  His  name  was  Collins."  — 
Cowper's  Works,  London,  1836,  vol.  V,  p.  11. 


xxxvui  INTRODUCTION. 

In  short,  as  Johnson  did  not  fully  represent  the  literary 
taste  of  England  in  the  last  quarter  of  the  century,  so 
Cowper,  by  reason  of  peculiar  circumstances,  did  not  fully 
represent  its  literary  knowledge.^  As  additional  proof  of 
this  may  be  mentioned  the  fact  that  in  the  next  year  a 
writer  in  The  European  Magazine,  speaks  of  Collins  as 
"  the  favoured  child  of  poesy,  whose  productions  in  every 
line  bear  the  most  indubitable  stamp  of  that  divine  enthusi- 
asm which  characterizes  genius."^  Of  like  purport  is  the 
honor  paid  to  the  Oriental  Eclogues,  in  1785,  by  an  entire 
essay  being  devoted  to  them  in  a  volume  of  critical  essays 
by  an  acute  critic  of  the  day,  where  they  have  for  fellows 
Cooper's  Hill,  Lycidas,  Windsor  Forest,  Grongar  Hill,  Rui?is 
of  Rome,  Elegy  Written  in  a  Country  Churchyard,  The 
Deserted  Village,  and  The  Seasotis.  Xor  were  they  placed 
amid  this  distinguished  company  to  be  disgraced  by  con- 
trast, the  critic  finally  pronouncing  that  "  the  Eclogues,  with 
all  the  faults  that  have  been  pointed  out,  have  such  poetical 
merit  that  .  .  .  they  have  nothing  to  fear  from  a  comparison 
with  any  of  their  predecessors."  ^ 

It  is  not  necessary  to  trace  the  history  of  the  growth  of 
Collins's  fame  to  the  very  limit  of  the  century.  The  record 
may  appropriately  close  with  a  short  extract  from  the  preface 
to  his  works  in  The  Poets  of  Great  Britain,  edited  by  Robert 
Anderson,  in  1794:  "His  odes  .  .  .  rank  among  the  first 
lyric    performances    in    the    English  language.  .  .  .      They 

^  In  fact  he  did  not  fully  represent  the  literary  knowledge  of  the 
educated  class,  at  least,  even  in  far-away  New  England.  Nine  years 
before  Cowper  confessed  his  ignorance,  Mrs.  John  Adams,  writing  to 
her  husband  three  days  after  the  battle  of  Bunker  Hill,  says  :  "  Those 
favorite  lines  of  Collins  continually  sound  in  my  ears  :  — 

'  How  sleep  the  brave,'  etc." 

2  The  European  Afa^azine,  August,  1785.     The  letter  is  signed  "  X." 
2  Critical  Essays,  by  John  Scott,  London,  1785,  p.  184. 


IXTRODUCTIOX.  xxxix 

entitle  Collins  to  an  indisputable  preeminence  above  all  his 
competitors  in  that  province  of  poetry,  except  Dryden  and 
Gray."  ^ 

III.     COLLINS    AND    ROMANTICISM. 

Collins's  fame  was  slow  in  coming,  partly  because  he 
outran  the  literary  taste  of  his  age.  He  was  a  pioneer  in 
Romanticism,  and  the  public  and  the  critics  were  not  yet 
ready  for  Romanticism.  Collins  was  a  romanticist  by  nature, 
in  temperament  and  type  of  mind  ranging  rather  with  Shelley 
and  Keats  than  with  Addison,  Pope,  or  Johnson.  But  he 
was  not  wholly  a  romanticist  ;  elements  of  a  true  Classicism 
were  deep  within  him.  And  he  fell  upon  times  in  which  a 
pseudo-classical  ideal  predominated.  The  history  of  his 
poetic  development  is  the  resultant  of  the  three  forces  indi- 
cated, of  which  the  last  rapidly  declined,  and  the  second 
remained  about  stationary,  while  the  first  steadily  increased. 

If  Collins  had  not  written  a  line,  we  should  still  have 
known  that  he  sympathized  deeply  with  the  new  movement 
which  was  beginning  to  transform  literature  in  England. 
One  evidence  of  this  is  the  attitude  of  his  friend  Joseph 
Warton,  who  in  the  preface  to  his  own  odes  atlirmed  the 
conviction  that  "  the  fashion  of  moralizing  in  verse  has  been 
carried  too  far."'  and  that  "invention  and  imagination"  are 
'"  the  chief  faculties  of  a  poet.''  -     When  it  is  remembered 

1  A  Covif-Ictc  Edition  of  the  Poets  of  G>eat  Britain,  Edinburgh,  1794, 
vol.  IX,  p.  51  5. 

-  "  The  pubHc  has  been  so  much  accustomed  of  late  to  didactic  poetry 
alone,  and  essays  on  moral  subjects,  that  any  work  where  the  imagina- 
tion is  much  indulged  will  perhaps  not  be  relished  or  regarded.  The 
author  therefore  of  these  pieces  is  in  some  pain  lest  certain  austere 
critics  should  think  them  too  fanciful  and  descriptive.  But  as  he  is 
convinced  that  the  fashion  of  moralizing  in  verse  has  been  carried  too 
far,  and  as  he  looks  upon  invention  and  imagination  to  be  the  chief  fac- 
ulties of  a  poet,  so  he  will  be  happy  if  the  following  odes  may  be  looked 


xl  WTRODUCTIOM. 

how  intimate  the  two  men  were,  and  that  their  first  intention 
had  been  to  publish  their  odes  jointly,  we  may  fairly  assume 
that  the  preface  expressed  the  views  of  Collins  as  well. 

From  Thomas  Warton  we  learn  that  Collins  was  fond 
of  black-letter  reading  and  had  collected  many  rare  old 
books  illustrating  the  earlier  periods  of  English  literature.^ 

upon  as  an  attempt  to  bring  back  poetry  into  its  right  channel."  —  Odes 
on  Several  Subjects,  by  Joseph  Warton,  London,  1746. 

i"My  lamented  friend  Mr.  William  Collins,  whose  odes  will  be 
remembered  while  any  taste  for  true  poetry  remains,  shewed  me  this 
piece  [Skelton's  Algrat)ia)isir'\  at  Chichester,  not  many  months  before 
his  death ;  and  pointed  it  out  as  a  very  rare  and  valuable  curiosity. 
He  intended  to  write  the  history  of  the  Restoration  of  Learning  under 
Leo  the  Tenth,  and  with  a  view  to  that  design  had  collected  many 
scarce  books."  —  The  History  of  English  Poetry,  by  T.  Warton,  section 
XXXIII,  foot-note. 

"  In  the  dispersed  library  of  the  late  Mr.  William  Collins,  I  saw  a 
thin  folio  of  two  sheets  in  black  letter,  containing  a  poem  in  the  octave 
stanza,  entitled,  FahyVs  Ghoste,  printed  by  John  Rastell  in  the  year 
1533."  —  Ibid.,  section  XLI. 

"  Among  the  books  of  my  friend  the  late  Mr.  William  Collins  of 
Chichester,  now  dispersed,  was  a  collection  of  short  comic  stories  in 
prose,  printed  in  the  black  letter  under  the  year  1570." — Ibid.,  sec- 
tion LI  I. 

"  I  was  informed  by  the  late  Mr.  Collins  of  Chichester,  that  Shake- 
speare's Tevipest,iox  which  no  origin  is  yet  assigned,  was  formed  on  this 
favorite  romance  S^Anrelio  and  Isabella\.  But  although  this  information 
has  not  proved  true  on  examination,  an  useful  conclusion  maybe  drawn 
from  it,  that  Shakespeare's  story  is  somewhere  to  be  found  in  an  Italian 
novel,  at  least  that  the  story  preceded  Shakespeare.  Mr.  Collins  had 
searched  this  subject  with  no  less  fidelity  than  judgment  and  industry: 
but  his  memory  failing  in  his  last  calamitous  indisposition,  he  probably 
gave  me  the  name  of  one  novel  for  another."  —  Ibid.,  section  LX. 

Of  like  purport,  as  .showing  Collins's  knowledge  of  the  Elizabethan 
drama,  is  the  following  :  "  That  our  poet  admired  Ben  Jonson,  we  learn 
from  Tom  Davies  [bookseller  and  would-be  actor],  who,  speaking  of 
the  epilogue  to  Every  Alan  Out  of  His  Humour,  at  the  presentation 
before  Queen  Klizabeth,  observes,  '  .Mr.  Collins,  the  author  of  several 
justly  esteemed  poems,  first  pointed  out  to  me  the  particular  beauties  of 


INTR  ODUC  TION.  xl  i 

His  enthusiasm  for  the  Renaissance,  and  his  long-cherished 
plan  of  writing  a  history  of  the  Revival  of  Learning,  also 
indicate  his  sympathy  with  the  earlier  Romanticism.  And, 
finally,  Johnson's  half-mournful  description  of  his  friend's 
romantic  tendencies  shows  that  this  man,  born  when  Pope 
was  in  the  heyday  of  his  power,  -and  dying  when  Johnson 
ruled  literary  London  with  a  bludgeon  of  common  sense, 
was  yet  brother  to  Spenser,  to  the  youthful  Milton,  to 
Chatterton  and  Blake,  to  the  many  ill-regulated  enthusiasts 
and  poetic  dreamers  of  the  early  nineteenth  century.^ 

When  we  turn  to  the  poems  themselves,  we  see  in  them 
an  interesting  struggle  between  Collins's  natural  romantic 
tendencies,  his  natural  classic  tendencies,  and  the  literary 
conventions  of  the  day. 

The  early  minor  poems  all  show,  in  varying  degrees,  the 
lyric  instinct  which  had  become  so  rare  amid  the  prevailing 
didacticism  in  English  verse.  In  the  songs  about  Fidele  and 
Damon  the  romantic  elements  of  love,  nature,  and  the  super- 
natural are  handled  with  simplicity  and  truth  ;  while  the  intro- 
duction of  folklore  in  the  former  is  a  prophecy  of  the  Ode  to 
Fear  and  the  Ode  on  the  Popular  Superstitions  of  the  High- 
/ands.  The  obvious  elements  of  conventionalism  in  these 
slight  poems  do  not  call  for  special  remark. 

In  the  Oriental  Eclogues  the  struggle  between  conventional 

this  occasional  address.'"  {Dratnatic  Miscellanies,  vol.11,  p.  77.) 
—  Dyce's  Collins,  p.    12. 

1  ''  He  had  employed  his  mind  chiefly  on  the  works  of  fiction,  and 
subjects  of  fancy;  and,  by  indulging  some  peculiar  habits  of  thought, 
was  eminently  delighted  with  those  flights  of  imagination  which  pass 
the  bounds  of  nature,  and  to  which  the  mind  is  reconciled  only  by  a 
passive  acquiescence  in  popular  traditions.  He  loved  fairies,  genii, 
giants,  and  monsters  ;  he  delighted  to  rove  through  the  meanders  of 
enchantment,  to  gaze  on  the  magnificence  of  golden  palaces,  to  repose 
by  the  waterfalls  of  Elysian  gardens."  —  Lives  of  the  Poets,  London, 
1820,  vol.  XI,  p.  268. 


xlii  INTRODUCTION. 

form  and  new  subject-matter  is  patent.  The  artificial  pas- 
toral was  not  yet  quite  dead  in  England  ;  it  had  been  kept 
alive  by  the  mighty  names  of  Vergil,  Spenser,  and  Milton, 
and  recently  by  the  example  of  Pope.  It  was,  therefore, 
natural  enough  that  the  youthful  Collins  should  write  pas- 
torals. What  is  noteworthy  is  that  he  sought  for  new  metal 
to  pour  into  the  time-worn  moulds,  and  anticipated  Southey, 
Byron,  and  Moore  in  turning  to  the  Orient  for  poetic  mate- 
rial. The  result,  it  must  be  admitted,  is  tame  ;  but  the  mild- 
ness of  the  romantic  flavor  is  easily  explained.  Salmon's 
History  of  Persia,  from  which  Collins  got  his  inspiration, 
although  sensible  and  mildly  interesting,  is  not  imaginative 
or  picturesque  ;  and  Collins  showed  that  he  was  greatly 
athirst  by  sucking  from  it  as  much  romance  as  he  did.  But 
even  if  the  poet  had  had  a  richer  treasury,  he  would  not 
have  dared  to  display  its  stores  more  freely.  The  apologetic 
tone  of  the  preface  is  significant.  Collins  was  evidently 
afraid  that  the  "  rich  and  figurative  style  "  and  the  "  ele- 
gancy and  wildness  of  thought  "  might  offend  the  taste  of 
his  readers.  Romanticism  was  yet  a  timid  thing  in  Eng- 
land.^ Modern  readers  find  the  Oriental  Eclogues  less  wild 
than  wooden  ;  for  there  is  much  that  is  conventional,  not 
only  in  the  style  and  verse,  but  even  in  the  subject-matter 
and  spirit.  A  didactic  motive  is  apparent  throughout, 
as  in  the  handling  of  similar  material  by  Addison  and 
Johnson.  The  truism  that  virtue  is  essential  to  lasting 
love  and  happiness,  and  the  hackneyed  themes  of  pastoral 
love  and  rural  delights,  constitute  the  warp  and  woof  of 
the  first  and  third  eclogues,  and  enter  largely  into  the 
texture  of  the  other  two.  Oriental  love,  which  was  to 
receive  such  sensuous  treatment  later  at  the  hands  of  Byron 
and  Moore,  is  kept  within  the  bounds  of  a  decent  tameness. 

^  See  W.  L.  Phelps's  Beginnings  of  the  English  Romantic  Movement^ 
passim. 


1XTR0DUC7U0N.  xliii 

Even  the  fact  of  polygamy  is  politely  ignored.  Only  one 
Zara  weeps  for  the  distant  Hassan  ;  and  Abbas,  the  Persian 
monarch,  might  have  been  an  English  gentleman  except  for 
a  little  initial  despotism  in  his  manner  of  appropriating  the 
rustic  Abra.  The  fine  opportunities  for  pictorial  effect  in 
the  second  eclogue  are  imperfectly  developed,  although  the 
local  coloring  here  is  the  best  in  the  series  ;  the  novel  situa- 
tion in  the  desert  is  made  subordinate  to  shallow  moralizing, 
current  at  the  time,  about  the  evils  of  "  trade."  Similarly, 
in  the  fourth  eclogue,  the  scenic  possibilities  of  midnight  in 
devastated  Circassia  are  largely  sacrificed  to  commonplaces 
of  pastoral  description.  In  brief,  the  Oriental  Eclogues 
are  significant  in  the  history  of  English  Romanticism  rather 
for  their  tendencies  than  for  their  achievement. 

In  the  Epistle  Addressed  to  Sir  Thomas  Hanmer  the  occa- 
sion overrode  the  poet.  The  result  was  the  least  individual 
of  Collins's  poems.  The  epistolary  form,  the  conventional 
metre  and  style,  the  gross  flattery,  the  half-blind  estimate  of 
Shakspere,  —  in  all  these  Collins  was  hardly  more  than 
an  amanuensis  for  the  spirit  of  the  age.  Yet  even  in  this 
poem  may  be  detected  some  signs  of  the  individuality  of  the 
man  who  was  soon  to  write  the  Odes  Descripti^'e  and  Allegorical. 
The  references  to  Greek  literature  and  the  Renaissance  are 
significant.  The  allusions  to  Shakspere's  idyllic  plays  and  to 
the  fairyland  of  A  Alidsummer-N'ight^ s  Dream  and  The  7hn- 
pest  remind  one  of  the  Song  fro?n  Shakespear'' s  Cymbeli?ie 
and  of  the  delicate  Arcadian  fancy  in  several  of  the  odes. 
And  the  instinct  for  the  sculpturesque  and  picturesque,  soon 
to  be  revealed  in  the  Odes,  is  suggested  here  also  by  the  wish 
that  painters  would  go  to  Shakspere  for  subjects  and  by  the 
vivid  sketches  of  two  great  scenes  from  the  plays. 

In  the  Odes  of  1747  we  pass  into  a  new  atmosphere.  Here 
the  influence  of  convention  sinks  to  a  subordinate  place, 
and  classic  and  romantic  tendencies  become  dominant.    The 


xliv  INTRODUCTION. 

literary  fashions  of  the  day  linger  here  and  there  in  diction 
and  phrasing,  in  an  occasional  frigid  personification,  and  in 
the  literary  or  political  didacticism  which  underlies  several 
of  the  odes;  but  over  these  matters  we  need  not  linger. 
The  classic  and  the  romantic  elements  require  more  detailed 
examination.     We  will  begin  with  the  latter. 

In  these  odes  Collins  reveals  his  poetical  creed  by  his 
literary  allusions.  Spenser  and  his  school,  Shakspere, 
Milton,  Otway  —  that  belated  Elizabethan,  ■ —  these  are  the 
gods  of  his  idolatry  among  English  poets  ;  while  he  speaks 
slightingly  of  the  then  popular  Waller,  and  implies  that 
pathos  is  a  lost  note  in  the  British  lyre.  His  practice  con- 
forms to  his  theory.  The  Odes.,  in  their  main  effect,  are 
not  intellectual  and  didactic,  but  imaginative,  pictorial,  and 
lyrical.  They  are  not  chiefly  to  be  thought  out,  but  to  be 
looked  at,  felt,  and  sung.  The  versification  is  an  index  to 
the  spirit  of  the  whole.  The  end-stopped  pentameter  cou{> 
let  of  the  Eclogues  and  the  Epistle.,  a  form  so  admirable  for 
narration,  exposition,  or  satire,  so  ill-adapted  for  lyric  flow, 
has  given  place  to  a  variety  of  measures  that  fitly  embody 
the  subject-matter. 

But  it  is  the  subject-matter  itself  which  most  clearly  shows 
the  poet's  trend  toward  Romanticism.  Collins  was,  lit- 
erally, a  visionary.  He  saw  visions.  He  lived  in  a  world 
of  imaginary  beings,  some  beautiful,  some  terrible,  some 
the  creation  of  folklore  and  legend,  and  some  the  product 
of  his  own  imagination.  If  the  Odes  be  read  rapidly, 
with  this  single  point  in  view,  it  is  surprising  how 
constantly  the  poet's  thought  escapes  from  reality  to  an 
imaginary  world.  Even  The  Manners,  in  praise  of  the  obser- 
vation of  the  real  world,  is  all  compact  of  fancies  about 
"  wizard  Passions,"  "  giant  Follies,"  and  "  magic  shores." 
The  Passions  is  didactic  in  intent,  praising  the  simplicity  of 
Greek  music  above  the  complex  music  of   modern  times. 


INTR  OD  UC  TION.  xlv 

But  the  lesson  is  a  picture.  And  in  place  of  the  historical 
Alexander  in  Dryden's  similar  ode,  Collins  painted  a  new 
Pandemonium  and  Elysium  in  one,  where  bedlam  Passions 
mingle  with  the  Loves  and  Graces.  The  political  and  mili- 
tary events  of  the  day,  passing  through  this  poet's  mind,  are 
transformed  into  a  dream-land  peculiarly  his  own,  where 
ideal  figures  stand  out  in  colossal  bas-relief,  as  in  the  Ode  to 
Mercy,  or,  as  in  the  Ode  to  a  Lady  and  How  Sleep  the  Brave, 
shadowy  forms  at  once  delicate  and  majestic  mourn  over  the 
graves  of  the  heroic  dead. 

But  the  Ode  to  Fear,  the  Ode  to  Liberty,  and  the  Ode  on  the 
Poetical  Character  are  richest  in  elements  of  the  supernatural 
or  semi-supernatural.  In  the  beginning  of  the  last-named, 
Collins's  imagination  manifestly  revels  in  the  marvellous 
legend  of  the  magic  girdle  ;  he  is  wandering  amid  the  mazes 
of  77ie  Faerie  Quee?ie.  The  description  of  creation,  an  echo 
from  the  idealism  of  Plato  and  Spenser,  beats  with  an  inward 
heat,  an  intense  pleasure  in  the  fantastic  richness  of  the  pic- 
ture. And  the  ideal  landscape  with  which  the  ode  ends  had 
its  inspiration  in  a  reverence,  amounting  almost  to  worship, 
for  Milton  as  the  poet  of  the  supernatural  sublime.  The 
antistrophe  of  the  Ode  to  LJberty  shows  how  well  Collins 
knew  the  poetic  value  of  old  legends  and  traditions  ;  the 
fabled  disruption  of  Britain  from  the  mainland  is  thoroughly 
romantic  in  its  rugged  wildness  and  a  certain  element  of  the 
monstrous  ;  while  the  second  epode  is  rich  with  imaginative 
beauty  deriving  from  old  Celtic  sources.  The  Ode  to  Fear 
marks  the  climax  of  the  supernatural  element  in  these  Odes 
of  1747.  A  true  imaginative  shudder  runs  through  the 
whole.  It  is  conceived  and  expressed  throughout  with  a 
vigor  which  shows  that  the  poet  had  himself  lifted  "  the  veil 
between  "  and  was  looking  out  with  pleasurable  awe  into  the 
dim,  vast  realm  of  imaginative  Terror  and  the  dark  Sublime. 
From  the  classic  drama  he  selects  those  aspects  which  art 


xlvi  INTRODUCTION. 

most  closely  allied  to  the  murkiness  of  the  "  Gothic  "  mind  ;  and 
the  conception,  in  the  strophe,  of  fiends  who  "  over  Nature's 
wrecks  and  wounds  preside "  is  essentially  Teutonic,  the 
counterpart  of  the  Greek  belief  in  fair  spirits,  the  guardian 
divinities  of  mountains,  trees,  and  running  brooks. 

The  treatment  of  nature  in  the  Odes  is  not  remarkable 
except  in  the  Ode  to  Evening.  A  French  critic  has  recently 
observed  that  in  this  poem  Collins  anticipated  the  work  of 
the  modern  "  impressionist  "  school ;  and  he  points  out  that 
"'  the  phenomena  of  evening,  which  dissolve  progressively 
all  natural  form  and  destroy  the  solidity  of  every  object," 
are  peculiarly  adapted  for  treatment  in  accordance  with  the 
doctrine  of  the  impressionists  that  "  things  are  more  poetic 
by  their  aspects  than  by  their  forms,  and  by  their  colors  than 
by  their  substance."  ^ 

But  curious  as  this  anticipation  is,  it  concerns  us  more 
just  now  to  ask  what  relation  the  poem  bore  to  Collins's  own 
environment  and  to  the  rest  of  his  work.  It  must  have  had 
a  close  relation,  although  it  seems  so  unique.  It  cannot  have 
been  a  literary  freak,  a  poem-child  of  the  nineteenth  century 
born  out  of  due  time. 

What  view  of  the  matter  did  Collins  himself  probably 
take  ?  It  is  not  likely  that  he  supposed  he  was  doing  any- 
thing unusual.     And  in  a  way  he  was  not.     It  is  singular 

1  "L^Ode  an  Soir  est  en  effet  de  la  poesie  impressioniste  au  premier 
chef  ;  d'instinct,  Collins  a  decouvert  et  applique  inconsciemment  la 
theorie  que  Ton  salt,  et  il  lui  a  suffi  pour  cela  du  desir  d'imiter  son  objet 
aussi  etroitement  que  possible,  car  s'il  est  vrai  que  les  choses  sont  plus 
poetiques  par  leurs  aspects  que  par  leurs  formes  et  par  leurs  couleurs 
que  par  leur  substance,  on  comprendra  aisement  comment  le  phenomene 
du  soir,  qui  dissout  progressivement  toute  forme  naturelle  et  detruit  la 
solidite  de  toute  objet,  s'accommode  mieux  que  tout  autre  d'etre  traite 
selon  cette  doctrine,  qui,  si  elle  est  douteuse  dans  d'autres  cas,  est 
absolument  vraie  dans  celui-la."  —  If  cures  dc  Lectw'c  dhm  Critique,  by 
-tmile  Montcgut,  Paris,  1891,  pp.  213,  214. 


INTR  OD  UC  TION.  xl  vii 

that  this  poem,  in  the  last  stanza,  is  marred  by  worse  con- 
ventionalism than  can  be  found  elsewhere  in  the  Odes. 
Furthermore,  the  mood  of  the  poem  is  common  enough. 
Eventide,  when  all  things  are  idealized  by  dimness  and  calm, 
is  Nature's  popular  poetry,  felt  by  the  most  callous,  and 
disposing  every  one  to  pensiveness  and  repose.  Nor  does 
the  ode  show  minute  or  subtle  observation,  such  as  distin- 
guishes much  of  the  nature  poetry  of  the  present  century. 
The  objects  and  aspects  described  are  obvious  and  common. 
The  exquisite  fineness  in  the  poem  is  fineness  of  feeling 
and  expression,  not  of  perception.  We  should  not  expect 
Collins,  the  dreamer  and  visionary,  to  have  a  particularly 
keen  eye  for  the  facts  of  the  external  world.  And  in  this 
poem,  as  elsewhere,  he  was  more  dreaming  than  seeing  ;  or, 
more  accurately,  he  was  seeing,  but  only  because  in  this 
case  seeing  and  dreaming  were  nearly  one,  nature  at  twilight 
creating  a  fairy  world  much  like  his  own  land  of  dreams. 
In  other  words,  Collins  did  know  and  greatly  love  the  com- 
mon phenomena  of  evening,  for  the  reason  that  they  were 
peculiarly  congenial  to  his  mood  and  closely  akin  to  that 
imaginary  world  in  which  his  fancy  loved  to  dwell. 

As  confirming  this  view,  note  how  Collins  mingles  in  the 
poem  the  facts  of  nature  with  his  own  and  others'  fancies. 
The  sun  and  the  hours  are  persons,  as  in  old  mythology. 
Elves,  and  nymphs  who  shed  the  dew,  and  Pensive  Pleasures 
sweet,  prepare  Evening's  shadowy  car.  Even  the  conven- 
tional personifications  with  which  the  poem  ends  show  only 
the  same  tendency  carried  farther  ;  fancy  banishes  fact  alto- 
gether, and  nothing  is  left  but  the  group  of  wooden  abstrac- 
tions, stiffly  sitting  in  the  "sylvan  shed."  This  sorry  ending 
is  simply  a  striking  proof  of  the  fact  that  Collins,  in  this 
poem,  had  no  thought  of  making  an  objective  study  of 
nature,  still  less  of  founding  a  new  school  of  nature  poetry. 
He  was  not  trying,  in  Wordsworth's  phrase,  to  keep  his  eye 


xlviii  INTRODUCTION. 

"  Steadily  on  the  object."  Rather  he  was  attracted  instinc- 
tively to  the  dreamy  aspects  of  twilight,  partly  for  their  own 
sake,  and  partly  because  they  made  so  poetic  a  habitation 
for  the  creatures  of  his  imagination  ;  and  so  he  wrote  a 
poem  in  which  the  two  series  of  facts,  the  real  and  the 
imaginary,  freely  intermingled,  although  they  never  became 
identified.  In  all  this  there  was  nothing  new  in  kind.  He 
was  simply  at  his  old  trick  of  dreaming  again,  only  in  this 
instance  it  was  evening,  instead  of  the  wars  on  the  continent 
or  the  literature  of  terror,  that  supplied  the  inspiration  and 
part  of  the  material. 

If  this  be  true,  we  should  expect  to  find  it  true  at  the  core 
of  the  poem,  in  the  conception  of  evening  itself.  And  it  is 
true  there.  Throughout  the  ode.  Evening  and  evening  are 
distinct,  and  Collins's  attention  is  divided  between  the  two. 
Whole  stanzas  are  given  up  to  natural  description,  without 
the  slightest  immediate  reference  to  Evening  the  person. 
At  other  times  Evening  is  directly  addressed,  but  rather 
frigidly  and  in  terms  which  only  in  the  most  general  way- 
suggest  a  connection  with  the  objective  facts;  as  "chaste 
Eve,"  "  nymph  reserved,"  "  maid  composed,"  "calm  votaress," 
and  "  meekest  Eve."  In  a  few  places  the  relation  is  more 
intimate,  and  the  personification  more  imaginative,  notably  in 


and  in 


Prepare  thy  shadowy  car, 

marks  o'er  all 
Thy  dewy  fingers  draw 
The  gradual  dusky  veil. 

But  the  person  and  the  phenomena  are  never  completely 
fused,  as  might  have  happened  had  Collins  been  wholly 
absorbed  in  picturing  the  scenes  of  the  real  world  at  evening 
time.  Keats,  in  his  ode  to  Autumn,  was  thus  absorbed  in 
catching  up  into  words  the  subtle  spirit  of  the  "  season  of 
mists  and  mellow  fruitfulness,"  and  he  has  identified  Autumn 


INTRODUCTION.  xlix 

the  person  with  autumn  the  season.  Autumn  in  his  poem 
is  no  sturdy  matron  with  sickle  and  sheaf.  She  is  the 
haunting  spirit  of  the  "  granary  floor,"  the  "  half-reaped 
furrow,"  and  the  oozing  cider-press.  She  has  no  fixed  body, 
but  many  flitting  incarnations,  in  which  "  whoever  seeks 
abroad  "  may  catch  glimpses  of  her  very  essence.  In  the 
Ode  to  Evoiing  there  is  no  such  inner  unity.  Collins  was  at 
once  describing  the  appearances  of  nature  at  his  favorite^ 
Kour  of  twilight  and  writing  an  ode  to  the  personified  spirit 
of  the  hour.  The  spirit  was  as  real  to  him  as  the  hour,  and 
probably  he  would  not  have  cared  to  identify  the  two.  The 
thought  of  a  semi-supernatural  being,  beautiful,  ethereal,  the 
goddess-queen  of  twilight,  dim-flitting  in  delicate  majesty 
through  her  shadowy  realm,  was  of  just  the  sort  to  captivate 
the  imagination  of  Collins.  He  must  have  loved  with  deli- 
cate intensity  the  natural  phenomena  of  evening;  but  they 
doubtless  took  on  additional  charm  when  he  thought  of  them 
as  the  drapery  and  chariot  and  dim  fairyland  of  the  mystic 
Spirit  of  Twilight.  And  so  it  probably  never  occurred  to 
him  that  this  poem  on  evening  was  materially  different  in 
motive  or  method  from  his  other  odes.  Just  as  in  the  Ode  to 
Fear  he  pictured  an  imaginary  world  of  terror  as  the  dwelling- 
place  for  his  "  mad  nymph,"  so  in  the  Ode  to  Evening  he 
merely  took,  ready  made  to  his  hand  by  nature,  the  world  of 
twilight  as  the  realm  of  his  "  maid  composed." 

The  poem  has,  therefore,  a  perfectly  definite  and  normal 
relation  to  the  qualities  of  Collins's  mind  and  to  his  usual 
poetic  method.  Wherein,  then,  does  its  uniqueness  consist .'' 
Precisely  in  this  happy  combination  of  delicate  fancy  with 
delicate  fact,  and  in  the  singular  felicity  with  which  the 
elusive,  dissolving  appearances  of  twilight  are  described  in 
words  as  magical  as  themselves.  In  short,  the  right  subject 
had  found  the  right  poet. 

In  its  relation  to  Romanticism  the   Ode  to  Evenhis;  is  as 


1  INTRODUCTION. 

remarkable  in  one  way  as  the  Ode  to  Fear  is  in  another. 
The  descriptive  parts  of  the  poem  are  entirely  romanticjn 
their  intense  though  delicate  passion  for  some  of  the  love- 
liest aspects  of  nature,  and  in  the  fidelity,  born  of  love,  with 
which  those  aspects  are  delineated.  It  is  interesting  to 
compare  the  ode  with  the  description  of  evening  in  the 
third  eclogue  : 

While  ev'ning  dews  enrich  the  glitt'ring  glade, 
And  the  tall  forests  cast  a  longer  shade. ^ 

The  lines  are  as  conventional  as  they  well  could  be ;  they 
show  memory  of  other  poets'  phrases,  not  observation  of  the 
real  world.     Contrast  with  them  these  lines  from  the  ode  : 

But  when  chill  blust'ring  winds,  or  driving  rain, 
Forbid  my  willing  feet,  be  mine  the  hut 

That  from  the  mountain's  side 

Views  wilds,  and  swelling  floods. 

And  hamlets  brown,  and  dim-discover'd  spires. 
And  hears  their  simple  bell,  and  marks  o'er  all 

Thy  dewy  fingers  draw 

The  gradual  dusky  veil. 

At  the  time  when  the  Persian  Eclogues  were  written,  Collins 
must  already  have  learned  to  know  and  love  the  sights  and 
sounds  of  evening  ;  but  he  had  not  yet  felt  that  it  was  worth 
while,  in  poetry,  to  try  to  paint  the  appearances  of  nature 
as  faithfully  as  possible,  and  that  in  fact  anything  else  in 
descriptions  of  nature  was  hardly  worth  doing  at  all.  When, 
in  the  Ode  to  Evening,  he  reached  that  point,  not  by  theory 
but  by  instinct  and  by  happy  accident  in  choice  of  subject, 

1  The  next  two  lines,  with  their  pleasant  touches  of  local  color,  were 
added  in  the  second  edition,  which  appeared  fifteen  years  after  the  first; 
they  afford,  therefore,  additional  proof  of  the  change  in  Collins's 
manner  of  describing  nature  : 

What  time  't  is  sweet  o'er  fields  of  rice  to  stray, 
Or  scent  the  breathing  maize  at  setting  day. 


INTRODUCTION.  li 

he  had  taken  a  step  which  English  poetry  in  general  was  to 
take  some  yeitrs  later. 

The  Classicism  in  the  poetry  of  Collins  is,  at  first  glance, 
even  more  apparent  than  the  Romanticism.  It  is  present  in 
all  the  poems,  from  earliest  to  latest,  but  may  be  most  con- 
veniently studied  in  the  Odes  of  1747,  where  it  reached  its 
highest  development. 

Collins's  love  for  genuine  classic  art  receives  direct  expres-'"'fy?^A' 
sion  in  the  Ode  to  Sif?iplicity,  which  draws  its  inspiration  from 
Greek  literature  and  not  from  the  frigid  Classicism  of  the 
age  of  Queen  Anne.  The  same  backward  look  appears  in 
the  many  other  allusions  to  Greek  literature,  art,  and  history. 
Collins's  admiration  for  Mikon,  which  is  shown  by  frequent 
Miltonic  echoes  in  style  even  more  than  by  direct  praise, 
resulted  naturally  from  the  combination  of  the  classic  and 
the  romantic  in  his  own  ideal  ;  for  Milton  came  nearer  to 
realizing  such  an  ideal  than  any  other  English  poet.  It  was 
natural  that  a  poet  of  Collins's  tastes  and  literary  environ- 
ment, groping  about  for  a  richer  poetic  method,  yet  appre- 
ciating all  that  was  good  in  the  classical  ideals  of  the  day  and 
drawn  powerfully  towards  the  truer  Classicism  of  ancient  art, 
should  turn  to  the  author  of  Lycidas  and  Paradise  Lost  as  his 
exemplar  and  guide.  The  last  of  the  great  Elizabethans 
satisfied  at  once  his  love  of  classic  finish  and  his  hunger  for 
richness,  imagination,  and  lofty  passion. 

In  practice  Collins's  classic  instincts  appear  partly  in  a 
certain  restraint  in  the  handling  of  jomantic  subject-matter, 
which  he  never  allows  to  run  away  with  him  into  extravagance 
or  disproportion.  This  restraint  was  the  easier,  however, 
because  his  romantic  material  was  comparatively  meagre  and 
tame.  But  his  Classicism  appears  chiefly  in  constant  quali-  »-^ 
ties  of  verse,  style,  and  general  manner.  The  Odes  are 
characterized  by  a  repose,  an  economy  of  expression,  and  a 
purity  of  outline  which  suggest  Greek  sculpture,  the  pictures 


lii  INTRODUCTION. 

.of  Raphael^  or  the  tapestries  of  Mantegna.  Even  where  the 
style  is  involved,  as  in  some  of  the  longer '^Hes,  the  total 
effect  is  simple  —  the  threads  may  be  curiously  interwoven, 
but  the  resulting  figure  is  clear  and  restful ;  while  many  of 
the  shorter  odes  have  the  snow-pure  limbs  of  a  statue  fresh 
from  the  sculptor's  chisel.  The  versification  of  the  Odes  is 
finished  and  careful.  Collins  exercised  considerable  freedom 
in  the  choice  of  stanza-forms  ;  but,  having  chosen  them,  he 
adhered  to  them.  Within  ^he  individual  line  he  admitted 
but  few  variationSj^nd  those  usually  consisted  merely  of  a 
shifting  oFaccent  in  the  first  foot.  A  freedom  in  the  placing 
oi  caesuras,  never  degenerating  into  license  or  caprice,  con- 
tributes its  part  to  the  total  effect  of  Collins's  verse  at  its 
best,  an  effect  which  may  be  briefly  described  as  a  combina- 
tion of  polish  with  variety,  richness,  and  ease. 

The  Ode  on  the  Death  of  Mr.  Thomson,  published  two 
years  and  a  half  later  than  the  Odes  of  1747,  bears  evidence 
that  Collins  had  not  gone  backward  in  his  poetic  develop- 
ment. In  their  sincerity  and  naturalness  the  verses  are 
separated  by  a  great  gulf  from  the  conventional  elegy  of  the 
day.  In  feeling  and  manner  they  are  purely  lyric  ;  some- 
thing of  the  motion  of  the  "  lorn  stream  "  itself  flows  in 
gentle  sadness  through  the  lines.  The  world  of  legend  and 
fancy  in  which  Collins  loved  to  wander  gleams  out  here  and 
there  —  in  the  name  of  "  druid  "  given  to  Thomson,  in  the 
allusion  to  the  harp  of  yEolus,  in  the  foot-note  referring  to 
Thomson's  most  romantic  poem  ;  while  the  lines 

And  see,  the  fairy  valleys  fade  ; 

Dun  night  has  veil'd  the  solemn  view, 

recall  the  Ode  to  Evening  in  their  combination  of  fancy  with 
one  of  the  most  romantic  phases  of  nature.  -"»— 

But  it  is  not  till  we  turn  to  the  Ode  on  the  Popidar  Super- 
stitions of  the  Highlands  of  Scotland  that  we  realize  how  far 


INTRODUCTION.  liii 

Collins  had  advanced  in  the  theory  and  practice  of  Romanti- 
cism during  the  three  years  that  followed  the  publication  of 
the  earlier  Odes. 

Scattered  through  the  poem  are  several  expressions  show- 
ing the  belief  now  held  by  Collins  about  the  new  class  of 
subjects  for  poetry.  Something  of  the  old  apologetic  tone 
lingers  still.  He  thinks  it  necessary  to  exhort  Home, 
"  though  learned,"  not  to  forget  the  "  homelier  thoughts  " 
of  the  "  untutored  swain."  He  props  up  the  cause  of  Roman- 
ticism by  citing  the  examples  of  Tasso,  Fairfax,  Spenser,  and 
Shakspere.  And  in  one  instance  he  adopts  language  still 
more  apologetic : 

Nor  need'st  thou  blush,  that  such  false  themes  engage 
Thy  gentle  mind,  of  fairer  stores  possest. 

But  it  would  appear  that  in  these  passages  Collins  was  merely 
seeking  to  conciliate  his  opponents  in  poetic  theory  ;  for  in 
other  lines  he  shows  enthusiastic  faith  in  the  poetic  value  of 
the  new  subject-matter,  and  makes  a  just  distinction  between 
the  imaginative  and  the  false  : 

Let  thy  sweet  Muse  the  rural  faith  sustain : 

These  are  the  themes  of  simple,  sure  effect, 

That  add  new  conquests  to  her  boundless  reign. 

And  fill,  with  double  force,  her  heart-commanding  strain. 

■   In  scenes  like  these,  which,  daring  to  depart 
From  sober  truth,  are  still  to  nature  true. 

It  is  evident  that  Collins  had  even  come  to  realize  that  it 
was  just  this  kind  of  food  which  his  own  genius  had  needed 
for  its  full  development ;  and  there  is  a  touch  of  pathos  in 
his  gentle  envy  of  Home  for  having  the  good  fortune  to  be 
born  in  "  Fancy's  land,"  far -from  the  barren  conventionalism 
of  literary  England  : 


liv  INTRODUCTION. 

Fresh  to  that  soil  thou  turn'st,  whose  ev'ry  vale 
Shall  prompt  the  poet,  and  his  song  demand  : 
To  thee  thy  copious  subjects  ne'er  shall  fail ; 
Thou  need'st  but  take  the  pencil  to  thy  hand, 
And  paint  what  all  believe  who  own  thy  genial  land. 

Still  more  remarkable  is  the  absence  of  the  didactic  point 
of  view.  In  the  Eclogues,  and  even  in  the  Odes  ol  1747, 
didacticism  still  clung  to  the  skirts  of  the  poet's  magic 
mantle.  In  this  ode  the  superstitions  of  the  Highlands 
are  not  recommended  because  they  could  be  used  to  point  a 
moral,  but  wholly  for  their  intrinsic  poetical  qualities.  They 
"  call  forth  fresh  delight  to  Fancy's  view."  These  themes 
of  "  simple,  sure  efifect "  are  valued  because  they  can  the 
"  answering  bosom  pierce."  Fairfax's  poetry  is  praised,  not 
because  it  taught  truth  and  morality,  but  because  "  at  each 
sound  imagination  glows"  and  the  verse  "fills  the  impas- 
sioned heart  and  wins  the  harmonious  ear."  Here  is  advance 
indeed  since  the  days  of  the  Persian  Eclogues,  when  Hassan's 
camels  were  hitched  to  the  dog-cart  of  a  prudential  morality. 

Most  significant  of  all  is  the  imaginative  abandon  with 
which  Collins  throws  himself  into  these  superstitions  of  the 
North.  This  is  particularly  noticeable  in  the  stanzas  about 
the  water-fiend  and  his  hapless  victim.  Even  the  theory  of 
Romanticism  is  for  a  time  forgotten  ;  and  the  ghost  of  the 
drowned  man,  with  '"  blue-swollen  face,"  and  "  shivering 
cold,"  stands  before  the  mind's  eye  with  all  the  vividness 
and  realism  of  popular  superstition. 

This  part  of  the  ode,  and  the  sketch  of  the  simple  inhab- 
itants of  St.  Kilda,  also  anticipated  in  some  degree  that 
sympathetic  and  truthful  portrayal  of  the  lives  of  the  poor 
which  was  to  characterize  so  much  of  the  poetry  of  Burns, 
Crabbe,  and  Wordsworth.  The  picture  of  island  life  is  of 
course  roseate  compared  with  the  stern  realism  of  The  Parish 
Register  or  the  poetic  homeliness  of  Michael ;  but   in  com- 


INTRODUCTION.  Iv 

parison  with  the  conventional  descriptions  of  rural  life  in 
the  Persia7i  Eclogues  it  shows  a  considerable  advance  in 
naturalness  and  truth. 

Collins's  own  style  and  method  reveal  the  same  progress  in 
Romanticism.  The  stanza  is  a  rather  shapeless  and  clumsy 
enlargement  of  the  Spenserian  ;  and  the  style  at  times  is 
decidedly  Spenser-like  in  diffuse  picturesqueness  or  in  deli- 
cate luxury  of  color  : 

For,  watchful,  lurking  'mid  th'  unrustling  reed, 

At  those  mirk  hours  the  wily  monster  lies, 

And  listens  oft  to  hear  the  passing  steed, 

And  frequent  round  him  rolls  his  sullen  eyes, 

If  chance  his  savage  wrath  may  some  weak  wretch  surprise. 

Yet  frequent  now,  at  midnight's  solemn  hour. 
The  rifted  mounds  their  yawning  cells  unfold, 
And  forth  the  monarchs  stalk  with  sov'reign  pow'r, 
In  pageant  robes,  and  wreath'd  with  sheeny  gold, 
And  on  their  twilight  tombs  aerial  council  hold. 

In  not  a  few  lines  Collins  has  followed  his  own  advice  to 
Home  to  suit  his  style  to  his  romantic  subject-matter  and 
"  proceed  in  forceful  sounds  and  colours  bold."  An  instance 
occurs  in  the  third  stanza  : 

At  ev'ry  pause,  Ijefore  thy  mind  possest. 
Old  Runic  bards  shall  seem  to  rise  around, 
With  uncouth  lyres,  in  many-colour'd  vest, 
Their  matted  hair  with  boughs  fantastic  crown'd. 

The  style   of  the  poem  as  a  whole  strikes  one  as  having 
more  of  romantic  warmth  and  dash,  and  less  of  classical 
finish,  than  any  other  of  Collins's  odes ;  but,  as  regards  , 
comparative  lack  of  finish,  it  should  be  remembered  that  wt 
have  only  an  imperfect  first  draught. 

The  limitations  and  the  distinctive  quality  of  the  Roman- 
ticism in  the  poetry  of  Collins  have  already  been  implied  ; 
but  they  may  now  be  briefly  stated.     Many  of  the  romantic 


Ivi  INTRODUCTION. 

aspects  of  nature,  the  picturesque  in  humble  life,  the  pictur- 
esque in  the  feudal  past,  and  the  whole  world  of  concrete 
human  passion  and  struggle  either  are  entirely  absent  from 
CoUins's  verse  or  receive  only  incidents  and  rudimentary 
treatment.  His  Romanticism  was  that  of  an  idealist  with 
strong  classical  tendencies,  and  anything  wiiich  does  not 
blend  readily  with  the  classical  and  the  ideal  could  not 
enter  his  pages.  It  is  a  tempting  problem  what  would  have 
been  his  poetical  development  had  he  lived,  with  faculties 
unimpaired,  for  a  generation  longer.  On  the  one  hand,  his 
letter  in  1750,  in  its  reference  to  his  new  ode  on  the  music 
of  the  Grecian  theatre,  shows  how  highly  he  still  valued 
"  correct "  composition  modelled  upon  the  Greek  classics. 
On  the  other  hand,  so  rapid  had  been  his  progress  in 
Romanticism  during  the  brief  interval  between  the  Odes  of 
1747  and  the  Ode  on  the  Popular  Superstitions  of  the  High- 
lands  that  it  is  probable  that  he  would  have  moved  with  ever 
increasing  speed  toward  the  bolder  and  wider  Romanticism 
reached  even  in  his  own  century  by  Chatterton  and  Blake. 

The  influence  of  Collins  upon  the  development  of  the 
Romantic  Movement  in  England  was  indefinite  and  slight. 
This  was  chiefly  due  to  the  loss,  for  more  than  a  generation, 
of  his  most  romantic  poem.  Had  the  Ode  on  the  Popular 
Superstitions  of  the  Highlands  heen  given  to  the  world  in  1749 
instead  of  in  1788,  it  could  not  have  failed  to  exert  a  power- 
ful influence  upon  the  growth  of  English  Romanticism  ;  for, 
as  Professor  Phelps  has  remarked,  "  it  struck  a  new  note  in 
English  verse,"  and  was  "  the  first  important  poem  "  in  that 
branch  of  Romanticism  which  dealt  with  '"  native  supersti- 
tions or  Teutonic  mythology."  ^  As  it  was,  we  can  do  little 
more  than  guess  at  the  quiet  effect  which  the  published 
poems  of  Collins  may  have  wrought  upon  the  poets  of  his  own 
and  the  succeeding  generation.     We  may  think  that  we  detect 

^  Beginnings  of  the  English  Romantic  Movement,  p.  137. 


INTR  on  UC  TION.  Ivi  i 

the  atmosphere  of  the  Ode  to  Evening  va.  the  Elegy  Written  in 
a  Country  Churchyard ;  the  influence  of  the  more  elaborate 
odes  upon  Gray's  Pindarics  ;  an  echo  of  the  Oriental 
Eclogues  in  Chatterton's  African  Idylls ;  possibly  a  trace  of 
The  Passions  in  Seattle's  Ode  to  Hope^  and  of  the  Ode  on  the 
Poetical  Character  in  the  same  poet's  conception,  in  The 
Mitistrel,  of  the  poetic  temperament.  But  these  and  like 
surmises  are  at  best  a  scant  and  shadowy  harvest.  And 
when  the  Ode  07i  the  Popular  Superstitions  of  the  High- 
lands finally  came  to  light,  it  could  no  longer  do  the  work  of 
a  pioneer,  but  was,  instead,  a  prophecy  fulfilled  ;  while  to  a 
later  generation  still,  the  name  of  Collins  was  a  pitiful  and 
indignant  memory,  not  an  inspiration  to  new  deeds  in  poesie. 
Wordsworth,  at  the  threshold  of  his  poetic  career,  prayed 

that  never  child  of  song 
May  know  that  poet's  sorrows  more.^ 

And  Scott,  looking  back  with  the  tenderness  of  a  robust 
nature  for  a  delicate  and  unfortunate  one,  recognized  the 
kinship  between  himself  and  "  Collins,    ill-starred   name," 

who  loved 

to  tread  enchanted  strand, 
And  thread  .  .  .  the  maze  of  Fairyland ; 
Of  golden  battlements  to  view  the  gleam, 
And  slumber  soft  by  some  Elysian  stream.^ 

But  both  Wordsworth  and  Scott  found  their  inspiration 
elsewhere  than  in  the  pages  of  Collins. 

IV.    THE    POETRY    OF   COLLINS:    AN    APPRECIATION. 

The  poems  other  than  the  odes  may  be  dismissed  briefly. 
Of  the  early  minor  poems  only  the  Song  from  Shakespear's 
Cymbeline  has  much  interest  for  the  reader  of  to-day  ;  that 

^  Remembrance  of  Collins. 

2  The  Bridal  of  Triermain,  Introduction. 


Iviii  INTRODUCTION. 

will  long  be  loved  for  its  tenderness  and  graceful  fancy. 
But  the  Verses  Written  on  a  Paper  show  a  Miltonic  richness 
of  expression  surprising  in  such  a  trifle  ;  and  all  the  poems 
have  a  certain  distinction,  —  a  grace,  finish,  and  freedom 
from  the  commonplace,  —  that  was  prophetic.  They  were 
prophetic  in  another  way.  Of  these  five  little  poems  two 
are  upon  tears,  one  is  a  love  plaint,  and  two  are  dirges. 
Evidently  '"  the  pert  and  nimble  spirit  of  mirth  "  was  not  to 
preside  over  the  poetry  of  Collins. 

It  is  sufficiently  high  praise  of  the  Oriental  Eclogues  to 
say  that  they  can  still  be  read.  This  not  inconsiderable 
merit  they  owe  to  the  narrative  element,  to  the  oriental  set- 
ting, to  the  frequent  prettiness  of  style  and  verse,  and  to  the 
occasional  fine  strokes  in  description.  The  first  eclogue  is 
the  least  interesting.  Its  didacticism  is  but  slightly  relieved 
by  the  fiction  of  Selim  and  the  maids  of  Bagdat;  too  evi- 
dently he  exists  only  to  preach  and  they  exist  only  to  listen. 
The  second  eclogue  is  the  most  graphic ;  but  it  is  difficult 
to  sympathize  with  the  whining  Hassan  —  did  he  expect 
to  find  the  desert  carpeted  and  the  tigers  caged  t  The  third 
eclogue  is  the  prettiest  of  the  series ;  the  motif,  though 
slight,  is  sufficient  and  beautiful.  As  a  pastoral  the  poem 
has  an  advantage  which  most  romantic  pastorals  lack :  the 
idealization  of  rural  life  is  natural  here,  for  we  are  looking 
through  the  eyes  of  characters  who  view  that  simple  life 
from  "  midst  the  blaze  of  courts  "  and  "  thorns  of  state." 
Li  Lho  last  eclogue  are  the  rudiments  of  a  striking  study  in 
chiaroscuro  ;  but  as  a  whole  the  picture  is  too  general,  and 
the  modern  reader  is  unable  to  believe  in  the  woes  of  two 
such  expert  rhetoricians  as  the  afflicted  shepherds  prove 
themselves  to  be. 

The  Epistle  Addressed  to  Sir  T/iomas  Hanmer  can  hardly 
be  called  dead,  for  it  was  stillborn.  As  poetry,  save  for  a 
line  or  two,    it  is  naught ;    its  learning   is  amateurish ;  its 


INTRODUCTION.  Hx 

literary  criticism  is  conventional,  and  in  one  instance  glar- 
ingly false.  Collins  had  attempted  the  battle  of  Pope 
without  Pope's  weapons. 

The  odes  are  unequal  in  merit  and  interest  ;  but  they  have 
certain  elements  in  common,  which  may  be  spoken  of  first. 

There  is  a  tendency  nowadays,  especially  in  comparisons 
of  Collins  with  Gray,  to  overrate  the  purely  lyric  quality  in 
the  poetry  of  the  former.  Compared  with  contemporary 
poets,'he  had  a~ conspicuous  lyrical  gift.  But  to  ears  accus- 
tomed to  the  wizard  strains  of  Coleridge,  the  Ariel-like 
harpings  and  skylark  flights  of  Shelley,  and  the  passionate 
harmonies  of  Swinburne  the  music  of  Collins's  lines  seems 
comparatively  commonplace  and  cold.  Hi^  verse  never 
soars,  and  it  does  sometimes  stumble  or  creep.  Its  best 
qualities  are  finish,  ease,  and  a  certain  quiet  purity  and  rich- 
ness.    Collins  plays  a  flute  of  clear  and  mellow  tone. 

Collins's  style  excels  in  picturesque  and  sculpturesque 
effects.  In  the  mind's  eye  he  saw  ideal  scenes  and  forms 
with  wonderful  clearness,  and  with  few  strokes  he  could 
describe  what  he  saw.  One  may  or  may  not  be  interested 
in  the  picture  or  bas-relief,  but  one  cannot  fail  to  see  it. 
The  classic  purity,  conciseness,  and  repose  of  the  style  of 
the  odes  are  doubly  grateful  nowadays,  in  contrast  with  the 
carelessness  of  the  century's  early  romanticists  and  the  pain- 
ful "  preciousness  "  of  fin-de-siecle  aesthetes.  Collins's  style 
is  at  once  natural  and  artful  ;  and  occasionally  it  combines 
ease  with  compact  richness  in  passages  that  remind  one  of 
the  early  style  of  Milton.  In  other  places,  especially  in  the 
Ode  on  the  Popular  Superstitious  of  the  IIighla7ids,  his  growing 
Romanticism  shows  itself  in  a  restrained  warmth  of  color 
somewhat  after  Spenser's  best  manner.  But  it  must  be  con- 
fessed that  not  infrequently  the  style  of  the  odes  is  common- 
place and  flat. 

The  imagination  of  Collins  was   limited  in  range.     His 


Ix  INTRODUCTION. 

vision  was  confined  almost  wholly  to  ideal  abstractions,  to 
the  supernatural,  to  a  few  phases  of  nature  allied  to  the  ideal 
or  the  supernatural,  and  to  periods  in  the  world's  history  and 
literature  embodying  his  ideals  of  art  and  freedom.  And  in 
effect  his  range  was  even  narrower  than  would  appear  from 
this  enumeration  ;  for  the  most  prominent  objects  before  his 
mind's  eye  were  the  ideal  abstractions,  round  which  gathered 
his  thoughts  upon  art,  freedom,  nature,  and  the  supernatural. 
This  lack  of  grasp  upon  concrete  reality,  upon  human  and 
dramatic  interest,  is  the  chief  reason  why  the  poetry  of 
Collins  never  has  been  popular  and  never  can  be.  "The 
defect  of  his  poetry  in  general,"  says  Craik,  "  is  that  there 
is  too  little  of  earth  in  it :  in  the  purity  and  depth  of  its 
beauty  it  resembles  the  bright  blue  sky."^  But  his  personi- 
fied abstractions  are  usually  saved  from  emptiness  and 
frigidity  by  his  habit  of  associating  with  them  concrete 
facts  illustrative  of  the  quality  in  hand.  Thus  we  know 
Liberty  by  Greece,  Switzerland,  and  Britain;  Fear,  by 
storms,  tragedy,  and  ghosts. 

Collins's  thought  had  about  the  same  limitations  as  his 
imagination,  for  he  seems  to  have  thought  chiefly  in  images. 
His  purely  intellectual  power  was  not  remarkable.  He  had 
apparently  meditated  more  upon  questions  of  literary  theory 
than  upon  any  other  topic  ;  and  even  here  he  shows,  in 
general,  fine  feeling  rather  than  originality  or  depth  of 
thought.  It  should,  however,  be  remembered  that  at  the 
time  when  he  wrote  most  of  his  odes  Collins  was  still  a  very 
young  man.  His  enthusiasm  for  liberty  seems  to  have  pro- 
ceeded rather  from  instinct  than  from  reflection  ;  it  was  a 
part  of  his  freedom-loving  temperament,  which  showed  itself 
also  in  his  life  and  in  his  departure  from  literary  conventions. 
In  brief,  one  sees  many  pictures  in  the  pages  of  Collins,  but 
does  not  receive  much  truth. 

^  History  of  English  Literature,  London,  1864,  vol.  II,  p.  284. 


INTRODUCTION.  Ixi 

The  passion  in  the  odes  is  neither  powerful  nor  of  wide 
range,  but  it  is  always  fine  and  sometimes  exquisite.  Collins 
was  not  a  robust  nature.  He  was  mistaken  if  he  really 
supposed  himself  capable  of  writing  tragedy;  that  calls  for 
sterner  stuff  than  the  delicate,  sensitive  horror  of  the  terrible 
which  palpitates  through  the  Ode  to  Fear.  But  in  pathos, 
and  the  tender  emotions  generally,  the  odes  are  rich. 
"  Collins  had  skill  to  complain,"  wrote  his  first  editor,  who 
should  be  thankful  to  have  said  one  good  thing  amid  many 
foolish.  This  note  of  tenderness,  of  delicate  pity  blended 
with  fancy,  which  vibrates  again  and  again  in  CoUins's 
verse  and  reveals  a  nature  of  remarkable  purity  and  sensi- 
tiveness, is  what  chiefly  endears  him  to  the  reader.  Here 
at  least  he  is  human,  although  his  tenderness  is  usually  too 
ideal  in  form,  too  aloof  from  the  beaten  paths  of  life,  to 
reach  the  popular  heart  like  the  tenderness  of  Burns  or 
Longfellow. 

The  gentleness  and  repose  of  the  poet's  nature  appear 
conspicuously  in  his  steady  love  for  the  country  life.  Begin- 
ning with  the  Eclogues.,  the  song  about  Damon,  and  the  dirge 
for  Fidele,  he  ended  with  the  quiet  woodland  and  river 
scenery  of  the  stanzas  on  Thomson  and  with  the  sketch  of 
Kilda's  simple  folk  in  the  Highlands  ode ;  while  in  the 
intermediate  Odes  of  1747,  as  M.  Montegut  has  happily 
remarked,  we  see  "  une  miniature  d'Arcadie,  d'ou  surgissent 
en  abondance  des  images  de  paix,  de  repos,  et  de  silence."  ^ 
CoUins's  dislike  of  war  and  his  love  of  peace  breathe  the 
same  spirit.  He  even  associates  his  beloved  pastoral  atmos- 
phere with  martial  subjects,  and,  to  quote  again  from  the 
critic  just  named,  is  probably  "le  seul  poete  qui  ait  chante 
I'heroisme  et  la  vertu  militaire  sur  le  chalumeau,  la  tenuis 
avena  de  Tityre."^ 

1  Ileures  de  Lecture  d^mi  Critique,  Paris,  1891,  p.  208. 

2  Ibid. 


Ixii  INTRODUCTION. 

Three  of  the  odes,  The  Passions,  the  Ode  to  Evening, 
and  How  Sleep  the  Brave,  have  attained  to  something  of 
popularity  and  call  for  brief  special  comment. 

The  Passions,  the  most  popular,  is  the  least  poetical  of  the 
three.  In  addition  to  the  didacticism  and  the  lack  of  unity 
commented  upon  elsewhere,^  the  poem  is  injured  by  a  certain 
hollowness  and  declamatory  tone.  The  imagination  merely 
glances  over  the  surface  of  the  subject.  In  places  it  is  diffi- 
cult to  escape  the  impression  that  we  are  witnessing  a  "per- 
formance," in  which  the  Passions  go  through  their  appointed 
parts.  Hope  smiles  and  waves  her  golden  hair,  Melancholy 
plays  upon  the  horn  with  pensive  prettiness.  Revenge  beats 
the  drum  and  strains  his  eyeballs.  We  look  on  unmoved. 
There  is  more  of  imaginative  abandon  in  the  lively  lines 
about  Cheerfulness  and  Joy.  But  in  the  tone  of  the  poem 
as  a  whole  may  be  found  an  explanation  of  the  melancholy 
fact  that  as  early  as  1782  the  ode  had  already  become  the 
victim  of  "frequent  public  recitals."  "^  The  merits  of  The  Pas- 
sions are  considerable.  The  perfect  clearness  of  the  style, 
the  easy  if  rather  metallic  and  too  obvious  music  of  the 
verse,  the  purity  and  finish  of  the  pictures,  have  doubtless 
combined  with  the  declamatory  manner  to  render  the  ode 
popular.  Yet  the  fact  remains  that  in  delicacy  of  feeling 
and  penetrative  imagination  it  is  inferior  to  several  of  the 
less  popular  poems. 

The  Ode  to  Evening  is  the  most  modern  of  Collins's  poems, 
resemblTng,  as^trasTtlready  been  pointed  out,  the  work  of  the 
impressionist  school.  But  it  was  a  favorite  with  lovers  of 
poetry  long  before  that  school  arose,  and  it  will  continue  to 
be  a  favorite  long  after  modern  literary  fashions  shall  have 
passed  away.  Although  less  popular  than  The  Deserted  Vil- 
lage and  Gray's  Elegy,  the  Ode  to  Evening  is  yet  like  them 
in  embodying  iajgxqu^site  form  sights,  sounds,^  andLleelings 
1  See  A/feudix,  A.  2  ggg  p_  xxxvi. 


INTRODUCTION.  Ixiii 

of  such  permanent  beauty  that  age  cannot  wither  them 
nor  custom  staIe7~~Tn~air  the^  finer  qualities  of  poetry,  — 
in  unobtrusive  melody,  in  nameless  felicity  of  phrase,  in 
fxncv  and  imagination,  in^suggestive  description^n  feeling 
fq^jh^_delicajjelj^eauti£u^  it  is  far  superior, 

not  only  to  the  more  strepitant  ode  on  the  Passions,  but 
to  nearly  all  of  Collins's  verse.  Ij;s  sustained  poetic  tone 
is  the  more  remarkable  because  of  the  introduction  of 
homely  details  about  the  bat  and  beetle,  which  are  taken 
up  into  the^  imaginative  atmosphere_of_the  poem  and  help 
to  give  it  realism  and  dis_tinction  without  loss  of  beauty 
or  dlgaity- — )The  ode  will  be  read  and  loved  so  long  _as 
the  sights  ami  sounds  of  evenrng~ltseTf  are  loved  by  readers 
of  English  poetry,? 

In  one  respect,  however,  the  Ode  to  Ei'oimg  is  sadly 
imperfect.  The  last  three  stanzas  fall  so  far  below  the  rest 
that  the  reader  must  either  make  for  himself  an  ending, 
which  is  not  a  conclusion,  at  the  fortieth  line,  or  rise  from 
the  poem  with  an  unpleasant  sense  of  beauty  marred  by 
wooden  conventionalisms  There  remains  for  mention,  how- 
ever, one  poem  not  only  exquisite  in  parts  but  perfect  as  a 
whole,  a  diamond  of  small  size  but  of  the  finest  quality  and 
cutting.  Pathos  and  fancy  were  perhaps  never  so  success- 
fully blended  as  in  the  lines  How  Sleep  the  Brave.,  which  are 
themseWes  like  a  "knell"  rung  by  "fairy  hands."  The 
mingled  delicacy  and  majesty  of  the  mourning  figures,  the 
ideality  and  truth  in  the  three-word  characterization  of 
Spring,  the  sustained  tone  of  repose,  the  combination  of 
grace  with  economy  and  richness  of  expression,  all  these 
unite  to  form  a  whole  of  gentle  but  enduring  charm.  The 
little  poem  is  perfect  of  its  kind,  and  the  kind  is  exquisite. 
A  violet  is  not  superior  in  daintiness,  delicate  precision  of 
outline,  and  cool  fragrance. 

The  poetry  of  Collins  does  not  strive  nor  lift  up  its  voice 


Ixiv  INTRODUCTION. 

in  the  streets.  But  if  it  startles  not,  neither  does  it  weary. 
Its  Milton-like  harmony  of  classic  restraint  with  romantic 
richness  secures  it  alike  from  extravagance  and  from  frigid- 
ity. Its  purity  of  beauty  is  a  lasting  delight.  Already  it 
has  survived  a  century  and  a  half,  partly  by  reason  of  its 
significance  in  the  history  of  English  poetry,  but  chiefly 
because  of  intrinsic  merit ;  and  there  needs  no  special  illu- 
mination to  predict  for  the  best  of  it  a  secure  though  quiet 
immortality. 


APPENDIX. 


o>»4c 


THE    STRUCTURE    OF   THE    ODES. 

In  Collins's  day  both  the  simple  Horatian  ode  and  the  elaborate 
Pindaric  had  long  been  domesticated  in  English  literature.  Jon- 
son  (i 573-1637)  wrote  odes  in  both  forms.  The  structure  of  his 
ode  to  tlie  memory  of  Sir  Lucius  Gary  and  Sir  Henry  Morison  is 
modelled  exactly  upon  the  odes  of  Pindar,  although  he  translated 
"strophe,"  "  antistrophe,"  and  "  epode  "  into  "turn,"  "counter- 
turn,"  and  "  stand." 

Horatian  odes  were  plentiful  enough  throughout  the  seventeenth 
century,  but  the  Pindaric  ode  seems  to  have  been  wholly  neglected 
until  the  time  of  Cowley  (1618-1667).  Cowley  had  a  zeal  for 
Pindarics,  but  not  according  to  knowledge.  Although  he  read 
Pindar  in  the  original,  he  mistook  the  complexity  of  the  metre  for 
irregularity  and  lawlessness,  saying  in  the  preface  to  his  Pindaric 
Odes,  "though  the  grammarians  and  critics  have  laboured  to  re- 
duce his  [Pindar's]  verses  into  regular  feet  and  measures,  .  .  .  yet 
in  effect  they  are  little  better  than  prose  to  our  ears."  Cowley- 
Pindarics  were  soon  the  rage.  They  became  and  long  remained 
the  favorite  metre  of  poet-laureates  in  their  official  performances  ; 
and  in  truth  no  form  could  be  better  adapted  for  making  a  pom- 
pous something  out  of  nothing.  The  climax  of  combined  tumidity 
and  dullness  was  reached,  perhaps,  in  the  Ode  to  the  Creator  of 
the  World,  by  John  Hughes  (1677-1720),  who  also  paraphrased 
some  of  Horace's  neat  odes  into  great  heaps  of  swelling  emptiness. 

To  Congreve  (i 670-1 729),  as  Johnson  said,  "we  are  indebted 
.  .  .  for  the  cure  of  our  Pindaric  madness."  Congreve  had  him- 
self been  among  the  sinners,  but  in  i  706  he  came  to  a  knowledge 


Ixvi  APPENDIX. 

of  the  truth  and  brought  forth  fruits  meet  for  repentance.  In  that 
year  he  pubHshed  an  ode  entirely  correct  in  form,  and  prefixed  a 
Discourse  on  the  Pindaric  Ode,  in  which  he  said  :  "  The  following 
ode  is  an  attempt  towards  restoring  the  regularity  of  the  ancient 
lyric  poetry,  which  seems  to  be  altogether  forgotten,  or  unknown, 
by  our  English  writers.  .  .  .  The  character  of  these  late  Pindarics 
is  a  bundle  of  rambling  incoherent  thoughts,  expressed  in  a  like 
parcel  of  irregular  stanzas.  ...  On  the  contrary,  there  is  nothing 
more  regular  than  the  odes  of  Pindar."^  From  Congreve  to 
Collins  correct  Pindaric  odes  were  common,  although  the  irregular 
Pindaric  also  continued  to  be  written  and  published. 

In  a  general  way,  therefore,  it  may  be  said  that  Collins  was 
doing  nothing  new  in  writing  odes.  For  both  the  simple  and  the 
elaborate  form  he  had  numerous  models  in  English  verse,  besides 
the  Latin  and  Greek  originals.  Even  the  unrhymed  Ode  to  Even- 
ing repeated  the  stanza  of  Milton's  translation  of  the  Fifth  Ode 
of  Horace,  in  addition  to  being  an  imitation  of  a  favorite  metre 
of  the  Latin  poet.  The  only  thing  worthy  of  note,  so  far  as 
yet  appears,  is  that  amid  the  varying  practice  of  the  age  CoUins's 
classic  taste  led  him  to  compose  all  his  odes,  with  two  exceptions, 
either  in  simple  measures  or  in  the  exacting  Pindaric  form.  One 
of  the  two  exceptions  is  the  Ode  on  the  Popular  Superstitions  of 
the  Highlands ;  for  a  reference  to  the  effect  of  Collins's  growing 
Romanticism  upon  the  stanza  of  this  poem,  see  the  Introduction, 
p.  Iv.  The  other  exception  is  The  Passions,  the  metre  of 
which,  although  irregular,  is  far  from  lawless,  as  will  be  shown 

1  The  following  passage  from  the  same  preface  affords  an  amusing 
illustration  of  the  mental  temper  which  was  still  possible  in  literary 
criticism  to  a  distinguished  man  of  letters :  "  What  the  origin  was  of 
these  different  motions  and  stations  in  singing  their  odes  is  not  our 
present  business  to  inquire.  Some  have  thought  that  by  the  contrariety 
of  the  strophe  and  antistrophe  they  intended  to  represent  the  contra- 
rotation  of  the  primum  mobile  in  respect  of  the  secunda  mobilia  ;  and 
that  by  their  standing  still  at  the  epode  they  meant  to  signify  the 
stability  of  the  earth.  Others  ascribe  the  institution  to  Theseus,  who 
thereby  expressed  the  windings  and  turnings  of  the  labyrinth,  in  cele- 
brating his  return  from  thence."  —  Chalmers's  English  Poets,  London, 
iSio,  vol.  X,  pp.  300,  301. 


APPENDIX.  Ixvii 

later  ;  and  even  upon  a  superficial  view  the  ode  is  far  removed 
from  the  shapeless  monsters  that  had  been  and  were  still  mas- 
querading as  Pindarics. 

As  to  subjects  for  odes,  and  manner  of  treatment,  the  greatest 
latitude  prevailed  in  CoUins's  day.  Almost  anything  might  be 
taken  as  the  subject  for  an  ode  of  the  simple  sort.  Collins's  friend 
Joseph  Warton  wrote  an  Ode  to  a  Geiitletnan  on  his  Travels  and 
an  Ode  on  Shooting.  The  odist  usually  contrived  to  address  some- 
body or  something,  but  in  a  meditative  ode  even  this  distinction 
might  disappear.  The  elaborate  ode  was  more  restricted  in  sub- 
ject and  manner.  Elevation  was  considered  essential,  and  the 
effort  to  secure  it  often  resulted  in  extravagance  and  bombast. 
Collins  in  both  classes  of  his  odes  again  showed  his  classical 
instinct  by  avoiding  meanness  or  triviality,  on  the  one  hand,  and 
absurdity  on  the  other.  He  is  not  always  uniform.  The  Manners 
has  least  elevation  of  subject  and  style  ;  Tlie  Passions  comes 
nearest  to  empty  declamation ;  the  Ode  on  the  Poetical  Character 
approaches  the  borders  of  the  unintelligible  and  merely  fantastic. 
But  on  the  whole  it  is  within  the  truth  to  say  that  Collins's  simple 
odes  are  never  undignified,  and  his  elaborate  odes  never  turgid  or 
absurd. 

The  simple  odes,  with  one  exception,  do  not  here  call  for  special 
study,  as  they  exhibit  nothing  remarkable  in  structure  or  verse. 
The  exception  is  the  Ode  to  Evettifi-g,  one  of  the  few  successful 
unrhymed  lyrics  in  the  English  language.  Its  musical  charm  is 
too  subtle  to  yield  up  its  innermost  secret  to  cold  analysis,  but  on 
attentive  study  some  of  the  causes  for  its  metrical  success  come  to 
light. 

The  fundamental  cause  is  the  high  poetic  quality  of  the  thought 
and  feeling,  which  does  not  so  much  divert  attention  from  the 
mere  rhythm  and  sound  as  reduce  the  demands  upon  them,  just  as 
in  the  contrary  case,  in  poems  where  the  mind  and  eye  are  not 
gratified,  the  ear  is  the  more  importunate.  This  may  be  tested  in 
the  last  stanza,  whose  comparative  poverty  in  metrical  effect  is  due 
chiefly  to  poverty  of  thought. 

Again,  blank  verse  is  peculiarly  adapted  to  this  poem,  for  the 
reason  that  the  absence  of  rhyme-emphasis  at  the  ends  of   the 


Ixviii  APPENDIX. 

lines  favors  the  fusing  of  line  into  line,  an  effect  which  subtly 
harmonizes  with  the  attempt  to  describe  the  dissolving  appear- 
ances of  twilight.  This  effect  is  most  definite  in  stanza  lo,  but  it 
is  present  throughout  the  poem  as  a  part  of  the  atmosphere. 
The  shortening  of  the  last  two  lines  in  each  stanza,  by  producing 
a  "dying  fall,"  contributes  to  a  somewhat  similar  effect,  as  do  also 
the  occasional  run-on  lines  and  the  several  instances  where  stanza 
melts  into  stanza  with  only  a  comma  between.  As  HazHtt  has 
said,  "the  sounds  steal  slowly  over  the  ear,  like  the  gradual 
coming  on  of  evening  itself." 

Aside  from  imitative  effects,  the  ode  is  richer  than  at  first 
appears  in  elements  of  melody,  rhythm,  and  stanzaic  structure 
which  go  some  way  toward  satisfying  the  sense  for  form  without 
the  aid  of  rhyme.  It  should  first  be  noted,  however,  that  in  two 
stanzas  rhyme  itself  is  present.  In  stanza  5  the  first  line  rhymes 
with  the  third  ;  in  stanza  6  a  rhyme  occurs  in  the  middle  of  lines  > 
3  and  4.  But  stray  rhymes  in  a  blank-verse  poem  must  be  con- 
sidered as  defects,  because  they  are  casual  departures  from  the 
type,  and  raise  expectations  which  are  not  elsewhere  satisfied. 
Legitimate  elements  of  melody,  however,  are  numerous  throughout 
the  ode  in  the  form  of  open  vowels  and  pleasant  consonants,  many 
of  them,  moreover,  coming  at  the  ends  of  lines,  where  they  are 
most  needed  as  a  partial  substitute  for  rhyme.  The  most  liquid 
'of  English  sounds,  /,  occurs  79  times  in  the  52  lines  ;  in  stanza  8 
there  is  an  average  of  nearly  three  /'s  to  the  line,  and  an  average 
of  two  /'s  to  the  line  in  stanzas  5  and  12.  Great  variety  in  the 
placing  of  caesuras  combines  with  the  run-on  lines  and  run-on 
stanzas  to  produce  unusual  fluidity  of  motion.  Certain  elements 
of  stanza-structure  appear  in  many  places,  and  help  to  preserve 
the  poem  from  the  formlessness  which  is  the  great  danger  in 
unrhymed  measures.  The  shortening  of  the  lines  in  the  second 
half  of  each  stanza  is  a  constant  and  powerful  factor  in  producing 
a  sense  of  stanza-form.  The  recurrence  of  "  now  "  in  stanzas  2, 
3,  and  4,  "when"  and  "then"  in  stanzas  6  and  8,  and  the  rather 
rhetorical  use  of  "while"  and  "so  long  "  in  stanzas  11,  12,  and 
13,  although  they  are  logical  and  not  metrical  in  their  primary 
effect,  yet  indirectly  reinforce  the  metrical  structure.     Alliteration 


APPENDIX. 


Ixh 


does  still  more  in  strengthening  rhythmic  and  stanzaic  effects. 
Through  several  stanzas  runs  a  sustained  alliteration  ;  and  al- 
though some  of  these  alliterative  effects  are  individually  slight, 
the^esulting  total  is  considerable.  Stanza  i  is  thus  threaded  into 
a  certain  unity  by  s  ;  stanza  2,  by  w  and  b ;  stanza  3,  by  w ,  <^, 
and  s  ;  stanza  10,  by  d.  The  more  marked  alliterations  are  not 
very  numerous  ;  but  it  is  noticeable  that  they  often  occur  at  or 
near  the  end  of  the  stanza,  where  they  are  of  most  service  in  pre- 
vefitiTig  a  sense  of  metrical  flatness  (see  stanzas  2,  3,  4,  7,  10, 
1 1,  12). 

Of  the  elaborate  odes  the  Ode  to  Mercy  is  the  shortest  and  the 
simplest  in  structure,  resembling  several  of  Pindar's  odes  in 
having  no  epode.  The  metrical  scheme  and  the  relation  of  the 
thought  to  it  may  be  seen  in  the  following  outline  :  ^ 


Ode  to  Mercy. 


I.   Strophe: 
characteristics. 


Mercy's     general 


f  4  « '1  Mercy 

4  a  [> Valour's 

5  /;J  bride. 
\  c\  She 

4  c  J>  disarms 
Is  '^J  him; 

4  d^  is  an 
(  4  d  !  angel 
'4  e  I  in 

5  ^J  battle. 
<  5/"^  Britain 

Sf  f^ worships 

6  ^J  her. 


2.    Antistrophe :  Mercy's  special 
service  to  Britain. 


^      !  Britain's 
^4«|danger; 

4  <:!  averted 

4  c  r-hy 

5  /^J  Mercy; 
4^1 

4  d  !>ditto. 

4  e] 

^  e'\  Mercy 
4/  !  shall  be 
4/"  I  Britain's 

6  f j  queen. 


The  Ode  to  Fear  is,  next  to  the  Passions,  the  least  regular  of 
the  odes.     The  epode  should  have  been  called  a  mesode,  as  it 


^  Figures  indicate  the  number  of  feet  in  the  line  ;  letters,  the  rhymes  ; 
stars,  feminine  endings  ;  braces  on  the  left  of  the  columns  of  figures, 
metrical  groups  as  determined  by  rhymes  or  line-lengths  ;  braces  on  the 
right  of  the  columns  of  letters,  divisions  in  the  thought. 


Ixx 


APPENDIX. 


comes  between  strophe  and  antistrophe  instead  of  after  the  latter. 
In  the  extant  odes  of  Pindar  there  are  no  mesodes,  but  they  some- 
times occur  in  the  choral  odes  of  the  Greek  dramas. 


Ode  to  J'ear. 


I.    Strophe:      Imaginative,    de- 
scriptive characterization  of  Fear. 


M'^l  Fear 
/  4  «  I  ■ 

4  b  ^'"^fg^- 
\  4  b\  '^^''^^• 
(  3  c\  Fear 
\  '}^  c  [comes, 
j  5  i/.  [terrified, 
/  5  d]  terrifying. 


3.  Antistrophe:  Fear  in  nature, 
human  Hfe,  folk-lore,  and  modern 
poetry. 


a  \  Fear 
a  \  weary. 

Fearful 

things 
>in  life 

and 

nature. 


4 
4 

Ab^ 
Ab 


5  ' 
4  e 
4  e 
4/ 
4/ 

\  ^S 
\Ah 

XAh 

\^\ 

I  4  i 

M/ 
I  47 
j4f 

j4  / 

U  /. 


Fear's  train ; 
Danger, 

phantoms, 
fiends, 

vengeance. 

Fate's 
hounds ; 
all 
terrible. 


3  <: 
Sd 

[  ]| 

{  I  i  ^^^' 
^  ^     m 

4  /  J 
^■■V  I  modern 

y   ^poetry 

^  *  I  and  in 

4  -f    folk- 

4 "     1 
^  ,     lore. 

4  « 

4 
4 


4/] 
47 


Invoca- 
4  ,^     tion  to 
4  ^  !  Shakspere, 
4  /  ]  Fear's 
4  /    greatest 
4w     prophet. 
4wJ 


2.   Epode :   Fear  in  Greek  tragedy. 

Five  pentameter  quatrains:  Greek  tragedy  early  and  effective; 
yFschylus ;    Sophocles ;    Fear  the  chief  inspiration  of  Greek  tragedy. 

The  Ode  on  the  Poetical  Character  was  printed  in  tlie  original 
edition  without  divisional  headings,  although  the  epode  and  the 
antistrophe  were  indicated  by  the  figures  2  and  3.  Yet  the  ode  is 
the  most  rcjrular  of  the  series. 


APPENDIX. 


Ixxi 


Ode  on  the  Poetical  Character. 


I.    Strophe:     The  magic  girdle 
of  poetry  is  for  few. 


4«1 

4  '^ 

\  b\  <-  1 

^  ,  \  Spenser  s 

'^      ^  magic 

^      i  girdle 

4  M  ^ 

4d} 

5/ 
S^ 
5/ 
5-^ 

*4h 

5  ' 
5<f 

*4.  t 
*\.  i 

47 

47 

6,?J 


spurned 
!>the  un- 
worthy. 


Poetry 
is 
^such 


lirdle. 


3.  Afitistrophe :  High  poetry, 
like  Milton's,  is  hard  to  attain 
unto. 

4«1 

4  '^  I  The 
4  f  cliff 
^Hof 

4  ^  I  high 

4^J 

5  0 

5_/"  I  where 
5^  ;>  Milton 
5/  I  lay, 
5d 

*4/0 

*4  h  !  Collins 
5  e  [seeks 

j4  n 

I  4  /•  I  . 
*       .     in 
^^4  7  X      • 

*4  7  I 

6g} 


2.    Epode:  The  weaving  of  the  magic  girdle  of  poetry. 

Sixteen  tetrameter  couplets  :  Poetry  and  creation  coeval ;  poetry  is 
pure,  wonderful,  true,  human  and  heavenly  ;  who  is  sufficient  for  it .? 

The  Ode  to  Liberty  is  the  longest  of  the  Odes  of  1747,  and 
with  the  exception  of  The  Passions  is  the  most  varied  in  metre. 
It  will  be  noticed  that  in  strophe  and  antistrophe  the  second  six 
lines  repeat  the  rhyme-order  of  the  first  six,  the  line-lengths  being 
also  the  same  except  in  the  case  of  the  last  lines.  The  conclud- 
ing nine  lines  in  strophe  and  antistrophe  are  identical  with  the 
Spenserian  stanza  in  rhyme-order  and  in  the  length  of  the  last 
line,  although  not  in  the  other  line-lengths.  In  the  antistrophe, 
rhyme  y  is  the  same  as  rhyme  _^,  probably  by  accident. 


Ixxii 


APPENDIX. 


Ode  to  Liberty. 


I.    Strophe:     Liberty     in 
ancient   world. 


I     4«  ' 


The 


^      }►  Spartan 
^  ,  I  heroes. 
5  "  I 

f  4  ^^l  The 
L"^        Athe- 
■^     ■'  ^>nian 
I  ju^  -^     tyraii- 

i  J-  nicides. 
L   6 /J 

{Ag^  Depre- 
J  4  /i  !  catory 

j  4  ,^  [prelude 

[  4  //  J  to 

'4  0 
4  7 


the  3.    Antistrophe :     Britain     torn 

from  the  mainland  to  be  the  last 
home  of  Liberty. 


4  '^  \  Prelude. 
4«  \ 

'4-51  Britain 

^      [part 

\    '^  '  ^of  the 
f   4  ^/ 

I     ^        mam- 
land. 


5  * 

47 

4  7> 

5^ 

57 

4/- 

(ik 


the 
overthrow 
of  Rome 
by  the 
barba- 
rians. 


4 
*5 

5/1  A 
*5  e  J>storm 

6y"J  arose, 
{  i,  ,s:\  which 

4  //  '.made 

4  g  fit  an 

i,  h  ]  island, 

r4  q  ,vith 

4  /  I  attend- 

5  '  Knt 

4  /    isles, 
<  47J 

5  /'^  to  be 
5/  I  Liberty's 
4  ,('  I  last 

^d  k ]  home. 


2.    Epode :    Liberty  in  the  modern  world. 

Xineteen   tetrameter  couplets  ;    couplet    1 1    has   feminine   endings : 
Liberty  has  found  a  home  in  Italy,  Switzerland,  Holland,   Britain. 


4.  Second  Epodc.  —  First  Part :  I5ritish  liberty  nearest  the  ideal ; 
Second  Part :    Conclusion  to  the  whole  ode. 

First  Part.  —  Twenty  tetrameter  couplets  ;  couplet  1 1  has  feminine 
endings :  The  druids'  temple  of  Liberty  is  gone,  but  the  ideal  model  is 
still  in  heaven,  combining  ancient  with  modern  elements,  its  walls 
graved  with  Britain's  fame. 

Second  Part.  —  Light  tetrameter  couplets :  Britain,  torn  by  wars, 
now  craves  peace  with  liberty. 


APPENDIX.  Ixxiii 

From  the  above  outlines  it  appears  : 

1.  Tliat  the  metrical  structure  of  the  odes  is  in  a  general  way 
regular,  consisting  of  distinct  parts  having  a  definite  relation  to 
each  other. 

2.  That  the  metrical  correspondence  between  similar  parts  is 
sometimes  curiously  exact,  and  sometimes  only  approximate. 

3.  That  the  epode  is  always  in  uniform  metre,  while  the 
strophe  and  the  antistrophe  are  in  more  or  less  varied  metre. 

4.  That  with  one  exception  the  epode  always  comes  between 
strophe  and  antistrophe  ;  and  that  the  exception  arises  merely 
from  the  presence  of  two  epodes,  one  of  which  is  in  the  usual 
intermediate  position,  while  the  other  naturally  follows  the  antis- 
trophe. 

5.  That  large  and  distinct  divisions  in  the  thought  always  cor- 
respond to  the  large  divisions  in  the  metrical  structure. 

6.  That  the  smaller  thought-divisions  sometimes  do  and  some- 
times do  not  correspond  with  the  smaller  metrical  divisions. 

The  significance  of  these  facts  will  be  pointed  out  later. 

The  structure  of  The  Passions  shows  the  influence  of  the  Cow- 
ley-Pindaric  ode,  but  it  shows  also  how  Collins's  native  sense  for 
proportion  and  form  restrained  him  from  going  to  extremes  even 
while  he  was  experimenting,  for  once,  with  irregular  measures. 

The  introduction  and  the  conclusion,  comprising  40  lines  out  of 
118,  are  written  in  plain  tetrameter  couplets,  and  alone  would 
suffice  to  give  some  degree  of  sanity  and  moderation  to  the 
metrical  effect  of  the  poem  as  a  whole.  The  fifth  and  sixth  lines 
of  both  introduction  and  conclusion  have  feminine  endings,  but 
this  correspondence  may  have  been  accidental.  Following  the 
introduction  come  three  quietly  moving  tetrameter  quatrains. 
The  broken  measures  then  begin.  But  the  first  three  lines  are 
tetrameter  still,  although  the  feet  in  the  second  and  third  lines 
change  to  trochaic.  Longer  lines  then  creep  in,  and  the  descrip- 
tion of  Hope  ends  with  two  hexameters.  The  rhyme-scheme  of 
the  lines  on  Hope  is  irregular  also  ;  but  it  receives  a  loose  kind  of 
unity,  certainly  a  sense  of  completeness,  from  the  fact  that  the 
last  line  rhymes  with  the  first.  It  is  also  connected,  perhaps  by 
accident,  with  the  preceding  quatrain,  its  first  line  rhyming  with 


Ixxiv  APPENDIX. 

the  quatrain's  first  and  third  lines.  The  passage  on  Revenge  is 
linked  with  that  on  Hope  by  its  second  rhyme.  The  rhyme- 
scheme  follows  no  perceptible  law,  although  it  gains  a  little  unity 
by  the  return  of  its  fourth  rhyme  in  the  last  line.  Cunningly 
hidden  in  the  middle  of  the  passage  is  an  unrhymed  line  (1.  45). 
The  variety  in  line-lengths  here  is  greater  than  elsewhere  in  the 
poem,  the  lines  ranging  from  trimeters  to  hexameters.  The 
appropriateness  of  the  broken  metre,  especially  the  impatient 
short  lines,  in  a  description  so  full  of  "  furious  heat  "  is  obvious. 
The  smooth-flowing  quatrain  on  Jealousy,  which  follows,  is  an 
agreeable  relief.  With  the  description  of  Melancholy  the  longer 
and  more  complex  verse-periods  begin  again.  Of  the  12  lines 
given  to  Melancholy  4  are  couplets  and  the  rest  are  quatrains; 
there  are  3  pentameters  and  9  tetrameters.  The  descriptions  of 
Cheerfulness  and  Joy,  with  their  companions,  are  written  in  metre 
appropriately  varied  and  lively,  but  not  intricate  or  fantastic. 
Line  85  is  unrhymed. 

The  subject-matter  of  the  ode  consists  of  two  sections  very 
unequal  in  length  and  very  different  in  nature.  Everything  before 
the  conclusion  is  descriptive,  and  has  to  do  with  the  Passions  and 
their  relation  to  Music.  The  conclusion  is  didactic,  and  has  to  do 
with  Music  alone.  The  poem  is,  therefore,  inferior  to  the  other 
odes  in  unity.  Either  the  conclusion  seems  a  divergent  after- 
thought ;  or,  if  it  be  taken  as  the  original  motive  of  the  poem,  one's 
first  impression  about  the  de.scriptive  parts  must  be  re-adjusted 
—  they  seemed  to  exist  for  their  own  sake,  but  it  turns  out  that 
they  are  arguments  to  prove  the  superiority  of  ancient  music. 
The  descriptive  portion  by  itself  has  only  a  slight  and  super- 
ficial unity.  With  a  few  trifling  exceptions  there  is  no  interac- 
tion between  the  Passions,  who  are  merely  brought  together  and 
rather  mechanically  wait  their  turns  to  play-  The  order  in  which 
they  are  mentioned  seems  to  have  been  determined  by  contrast 
and  likeness  and  by  the  desire  to  end  with  a  climax  of  gaiety. 

Wliat  is  the  conclusion  of  the  whole  matter.'' 

It  is  a  commonplace  that  the  Pindaric  ode  in  English  is  an 
artificial  exotic,  of  sliglit  native  force,  and  unable  to  reproduce 
the  effects  of  its  Greek  original.     The  reason  is  obvious.     The 


APPENDIX.  IxxV 

Greek  odes  were  accompanied  by  music  and  dancing,  the  singers 
moving  to  one  side  during  the  strophe,  retracing  their  steps  during 
the  antistrophe  (which  was  for  that  reason  metrically  identical 
with  the  strophe),  and  standing  still  during  the  epode.  The  ear 
was  thus  helped  by  the  eye,  and  the  divisions  of  the  ode  were 
distinct  and  significant.  But  in  an  English  Pindaric  the  elabo- 
rate correspondences  and  differences  between  strophe,  antistrophe, 
and  epode  are  lost  upon  most  readers,  and  even  the  critical  reader 
derives  from  them  a  pleasure  intellectual  rather  than  sensuous. 

But  while  this  is  true  of  thoroughly  academic  Pindarics  like 
those  of  Gray,  in  which  the  peculiar  metrical  effects  are  minute, 
it  is  not  altogether  true  of  the  rougher  Pindarics  of  Collins. 
Collins  was  less  scholarly  than  Gray,  but  he  was  bolder  and  more 
original  ;  and  consciously  or  unconsciously  he  so  constructed  his 
odes  that  their  organic  parts  stand  out  clearly  distinct  and  pro- 
duce effects  analogous  to  those  produced  by  the  Greek  ode.  In 
brief,  his  method  was,  first,  to  make  large  divisions  of  the  thought 
correspond  to  the  large  divisions  of  the  form  ;  and,  second,  to  throw 
out  into  relief  the  complex  strophe  and  antistrophe  by  contrasting 
them  with  a  simple  epode.  The  reader  may  not  perceive  the 
minute  correspondences  in  form  between  strophe  and  antistrophe, 
but  he  can  hardly  fail  to  feel  that  the  two  answer  to  one  another 
in  a  general  way  by  being  varied  and  complex  ;  while  the  epode  at 
once  emphasizes  this  effect  by  contrast  and  produces  an  impres- 
sion of  its  own  analogous  to  that  of  the  Greek  epode,  namely, 
an  impression  of  rehef  and  repose.  For  this  reason,  apparently, 
Collins  placed  his  epode  between  the  other  two  parts  instead  of 
after  them,  a  practice  for  which  he  seems  to  have  had  no  English 
precedent.  In  the  same  way  we  may  account  for  his  carelessness 
about  the  minuter  correspondences  in  metre  and  in  the  adjustment 
of  the  smaller  thought-groups  to  metrical  groups.  Sometimes  he 
seems  to  have  amused  himself  by  a  curious  regularity  in  minutiae, 
but  the  larger  impressions  were  all  that  he  considered  essential. 
In  The  /'^i-i-Z^^j  similar  effects  of  contrast  and  repose  are  secured 
by  beginning  and  ending  with  simple  metre  and  by  placing  quiet 
quatrains  here  and  there  among  the  passages  of  wilder  flight. 


Ixxvi  APPENDIX. 


B. 


REFERENCES    TO   COLLINS'S    POETRY    IN   THE 
EIGHTEENTH    CENTURY. 

"  Have  you  seen  the  works  of  two  young  authors,  a  Mr.  Warton 
and  Mr.  Collins,  both  writers  of  odes?  It  is  odd  enough,  but 
each  is  the  half  of  a  considerable  man,  and  one  the  counterpart  of 
the  other.  The  first  hasTjut  little  invention,  very  poetical  choice 
of  expression,  and  a  good  ear.  The  second,  a  fine  fancy,  modelled 
upon  the  antique,  a  bad  ear,  great  variety  of  words  and  images, 
with  no  choice  at  all.  They  both  deserve  to  last  some  years,  but 
will  not."  —  Gray's  letter  to  Wharton,  Dec.  27,  1746. 

"  We  remember  to  have  seen  an  edition  of  these  beautiful 
eclogues  about  fourteen  years  ago ;  and  if  our  memory  does  not 
fail  us,  they  were  then  intituled  Persian  Eclogues.  .  .  .  The 
thoughts  are  appropriated  [stc^,  the  images  wild  and  local,  the 
language  correct,  and  the  versification  harmonious.  .  .  .  With 
what  strength  of  colouring  is  the  beginning  of  this  piece  [the 
second  eclogue]  wrought  up !  .  .  .  We  are  much  mistaken,  if,  in 
this  little  performance,  we  do  not  discover  the  elegance  and  the 
picturesque  genius  of  tlie  too  much  neglected  author  of  Odes  on 
several  Subjects,  descriptive  and  allegorical.'''' — The  Mortthly 
Review,  June,  1757. 

"  Of  Mr.  Collins's  Oriental  Eclogues  we  gave  some  account  in 
the  sixteenth  volume  of  our  Review,  page  486,  and  there  we 
observed  that  his  Odes  descriptive  and  allegorical  had  been  too 
much  neglected.  It  shall  not,  however,  be  our  fault  if  they  are 
neglected  any  longer.  If  a  luxuriance  of  imagination,  a  wild  sub- 
limity of  fancy,  and  a  felicity  of  expression  so  extraordinary  that 
it  might  be  supposed  to  be  suggested  by  some  superior  power, 
rather  than  to  be  the  effect  of  human  judgement  or  capacity,  —  if 
these  are  allowed  to  constitute  the  excellence  of  lyric  poetry,  the 
author  of  tlie  Odes  descriptive  and  allegorical  will  indisputably 
bear  away  tlie  palm  from  all  his  competitors  in  that  province  of 
the  Muse.  .  .  .  The  Ode  on  the  Poetical  Character  \?,  so  extremely 
wild  and   exorbitant  that  it  seems  to  have  been  written  wholly 


APPENDIX.  Ixxvii 

during  the  tyranny  of  imagination.  Some,  however,  there  are 
whose  congenial  spirits  may  keep  pace  with  the  poet  in  his  most 
eccentric  flights.  .  .  .  There  is  something  perfectly  classical  in 
Mr.  Collins's  manner,  both  with  respect  to  his  imagery  and  his 
composition ;  and  Horace's  rule  of  ut  Pictiira  Poesis  was  never 
better  observed  than  in  the  above-quoted  verses  \Ode  to  Mercy^ 
11.  1-6].  ...  It  is  with  peculiar  pleasure  that  we  do  this,  justice 
to  a  poet  who  was  too  great  to  be  popular,  and  whose  genius 
was  neglected  because  it  was  above  the  common  taste." — The 
Monthly  Peview,  January,  1764. 

"  The  genius  of  Collins  was  capable  of  every  degree  of  excel- 
lence in  lyric  poetry,  and  perfectly  qualified  for  that  high  province 
of  the  Muse.  Possessed  of  a  native  ear  for  ail  the  varieties  of 
harmony  and  modulatio.x,  susceptible  of  the  finest  feelings  of  ten- 
derness and  humanity,  but  above  all,  carried  away  by  that  high 
enthusiasm  which  gives  to  imagination  its  strongest  colouring,  he 
was,  at  once,  capable  of  soothing  the  ear  with  the  melody  of  his 
numbers,  of  influencing  the  passions  by  the  force  of  his  pathos, 
and  of  gratifying  the  fancy  by  the  luxury  of  his  description." — 
Langhorne,  in  his  edition  of  Collins,  London,  1765,  p.  137. 

"  The  grandeur  of  wildness,  and  the  novelty  of  extravagance, 
were  always  desired  by  him,  but  not  always  attained.  Yet,  as 
diligence  is  never  wholly  lost,  if  his  efforts  sometimes  caused 
harshness  and  obscurity,  they  likewise  produced  in  happier 
moments  sublimity  and  splendour.  This  idea  which  he  had  formed 
of  excellence  led  him  to  oriental  fictions  and  allegorical  imagery, 
and  perhaps,  while  he  was  intent  upon  description,  he  did  not  suf- 
ficiently cultivate  sentiment.  His  poems  are  the  productions  of  a 
mind  not  deficient  in  fire,  nor  unfurnished  with  knowledge  either 
of  books  or  life,  but  somewhat  obstructed  in  its  progress  by  devia- 
tion in  quest  of  mistaken  beauties.  ...  His  diction  was  often 
harsh,  unskilfully  labored,  and  injudiciously  selected.  He  affected 
the  obsolete  when  it  was  not  worthy  of  revival  ;  and  he  puts  his 
words  out  of  the  common  order,  seeming  to  think,  with  some  later 
candidates  for  fame,  that  not  to  write  prose  is  certainly  to  write 
poetry.  His  lines  commonly  are  of  slow  motion,  clogged  and 
impeded  with  clusters  of  consonants.     As  men  are  often  esteemed 


Ixxviii  APPENDIX. 

who  cannot  be  loved,  so  the  poetry  of  ColUns  may  sometimes 
extort  praise  when  it  gives  little  pleasure."  —  Johnson  in  his  Lives 
of  the  Poets.,  London,  1820,  pp.  268,  271.  (The  volume  contain- 
ing the  life  of  Collins  was  published  first  in  1779.) 

"  A  subscription  is  about  to  be  set  on  foot,  for  the  purpose  of 
erecting  a  monument  to  that  much-neglected  but  admirable  bard, 
Collins,  in  the  cathedral  church  of  this  his  native  city.  His  incom- 
parable Ode  on  the  Passions  will  furnish  a  design,  which  is  to 
be  executed  in  the  best  manner  by  that  ingenious  artist  Flaxman. 
If  any  of  your  numerous  correspondents  can  give  information, 
through  the  medium  of  your  useful  Miscellany,  whether  any  por- 
trait or  engraving  of  this  venerable  poet  is  extant,  and  how  a  sight 
of  it  may  be  obtained,  the  information  will  be  thankfully  received." 
—  "  W.  G.,"  in   The  Gentleman's  Magazine,  December,  1789. 

YE  !    WHO   THE    MERITS    OF    THE    DEAD    REVERE, 

WHO    HOLD    MISFORTVNE    SACRED,    GENIVS    DEAR, 

REGARD    THIS    TOMB  !    WHERE    COLLINS,    HAPLESS    NAME  ! 

SOLICITS    KINDNESS,  WITH    A    DOVBI-E    CLAIM  : 

THO'    NATVRE    GAVE    HIM,  AND    THO'    SCIENCE    TAVGHT, 

THE    FIRE   OF    FANCY,  AND    THE    REACH    OF    THOVGHT, 

SEVERELY    DOOM'd    TO    PENVRY'S   EXTREME, 

HE    PASS'd    in    MADD'nING    PAIN    LIFE'S    FEVERISH    DREAM  ; 

WHILE    RAYS    OF    GENIVS    ONLY    SERV'd    TO   SHEW 

THE    THICK'nING    HORROR,    AND    EXALT    HIS    WOE. 

YE    WALLS  THAT    ECHOED    TO    HIS    FRANTIC    MOAN, 

GVARD    THE    DVE    RECORD    OF    THIS    GRATEFVL   STONE  ! 

STRANGERS    TO    HIM,    ENAMOVR'D    OF    HIS    LAYS, 

THIS    FOND    MEMORIAL   OF    HIS    TALENTS    RAISE  ; 

FOR   THIS    THE    ASHES    OF    A    BARD    REQVIRE, 

WHO    TOVCH'D    the    TENDEREST    notes    of    pity's    LYRE  : 

WHO  ioin'd  pvre  faith  to  strong  poetic  powers, 

WHO    IN    REVIVING    REASON'S    LVCID    HOVRS, 

SOVGHT    on    one    BOOK    HIS    TROVBLED    MIND   TO    REST, 

AND    RIGHTLY    DEEM'd    THE    BOOK    OF    GOD    THE    BEST. 

—  Collins' s  F.fitaf'h  in  Chichester  Cathedral^ 

1  Most  printed  transcripts  of  the  ephaph  contain  several  small  errors. 
The  above  text  is  copied  from  the  original  in  Chichester  Cathedral.  The 
bas-relief  and  epitaph  together  cover  a  large  marble  slab,  which  is 
affixed  to  a  pier  in  the  north  aisle  of  the  nave. 


APPENDIX.  Ixxix 

C. 

BIBLIOGRAPHY. 

Down  to  the  end  of  the  eighteenth  century  the  Hst  of  editions  of 
Collins  has  been  made  as  complete  as  possible.  Of  editions  belong- 
ing to  the  present  century  only  the  more  valuable  are  named.  With 
the  exceptions  indicated,  all  the  works  mentioned  are  in  the  British 
Museum.  The  other  statements  as  to  the  location  of  editions  are  not 
meant  to  be  taken  as  exhaustive. 

Persian  Eclogues.  Written  originally  for  the  Entertainment  of 
the  Ladies  of  Taurus.  And  now  first  translated,  &c.  Lon- 
don :  Printed  for  J.  Roberts,  in  Warwick-Lane,  1 742.  (Price 
Sixpence.)     8vo. 

Not  in  the  British  Museum.  One  of  the  two  copies  in  the  Dyce 
Collection,  in  the  South  Kensington  Museum,  contains,  on  the  fly- 
leaf facing  the  title-page,  this  entry  in  Dyce's  hand  :  "  This  copy  was 
given  by  Collins  to  Joseph  Warton  (see  note  by  the  latter  on  the 
back  of  the  title  page).  The  motto  from  Virgil  on  the  title-page, 
the  corrections,  etc.,  are  in  the  handwriting  of  Collins."  The  note 
on  the  back  of  the  title-page  is  as  follows :  "  Mr.  Collins  gave  me 
this  Copy  with  his  own  Hands  when  I  &  my  Brother  visited  Him 
for  the  last  time  at  Chichester."  On  the  title-page,  after  "  trans- 
•  lated,  &c.,"  is  written  in  Collins's  hand, "  —  Quos  primus  equis 
Oriens  afilavit,  anhelis."  Below  in  the  same  hand,  and  cancelled 
with  ink,  are  the  words,  "  Equis  Oriens  afflavit  anhelis."  The  quota- 
tion from  Cicero  (see  p.  84)  follows,  but  is  crossed  out  with  ink. 
The  imprint  is  also  crossed  out.  At  the  bottom  of  the  title-page,  in 
the  same  hand  as  that  of  the  note  on  the  back  of  the  page,  is  this 
entry  :  "  By  Mr.  Collins,  (written  at  Winchester  School)  "  For  the 
written  corrections  of  the  text,  see  pp.  85,  90.  This  copy  does 
not  contain  the  Preface  ;  the  other  copy  does. 

Verses  Humbly  Address'd  to  Sir  Thomas  Hanmer.  On  his  Edi- 
tion of  Shakespear's  Works.  By  a  Gentleman  of  Oxford. 
London  :  Printed  for  M.  Cooper,  in  Paternoster  Row,  1743. 
(Price  Six  Pence.)      Folio. 

An  Epistle  :  addresst  to  Sir  Thomas  Hanmer,  On  his  Edition  of 
Shakespear's   Works.      The   second   edition.     To   which   is 


Ixxx  APPENDIX. 

added,  A  Song  from  the  Cymbeline  of  the  same  Author.  By 
Mr.  William  Collins,  of  Magdalene-College  in  Oxford.  Lon- 
don :  Printed  for  R.  Dodsley,  .  .  .  and  Mr.  Cooper,  .  .  . 
MDCCXLIV.     (Price  One  Shilling.)     Folio. 

In  the  Dyce  Collection  in  the  South  Kensington  Museum.  Not 
in  the  British  Museum. 

The  Museum  :  or,  the  Literary  and  Historical  Register.  Volume 
the  First.  London  :  Printed  for  R.  Dodsley,  in  Pall-Mall. 
MDCCXLVL 

No.  VI,  June  7,  contains  the  Ode  to  a  Lady.  In  the  Library  of 
Harvard  University. 

Odes  on  several  Descriptive  and  Allegoric  Subjects.  By  William 
Collins.  [The  motto  from  Pindar  follovk'S  ;  see  p.  33.] 
London:  Printed  for  A.  Millar,  in  the  Strand.  MDCCXLVII. 
(Price  One  Shilling.)     8vo. 

In  the  Library  of  Harvard  University. 

A  Collection  of  Poems.  By  Several  Hands.  In  Three  Volumes. 
London :  Printed  for  R.  Dodsley,  at  Tully's  Head  in  Pall- 
Mall.     MDCCXLVII  I. 

The  second  edition  contains  the  Ode  to  a  Lady,  the  Ode  to 
Evening,  and  How  Sleep  the  Brave.  The  Collection  was  reprinted 
in  1763,  1765,  1767,  1783.  .Sometimes  unauthorized  changes  were 
made  in  the  text  of  the  odes  by  Collins  ;  and  some  of  the  changes 
have  been  retained  in  later  editions  of  the  poet. 

Ode  Occasion'd  by  the  Death  of  Mr.  Thomson.  By  Mr.  William 
Collins.  Haec  iibi  seviper  eruiit,  i&^  cum  solennia  Vota 
reddemus  Aymphis,  &^  a/m  liistrabijnus  Agros.  —  Amavit 
nos  qtioqne  DapJuiis.  \'irg.  Bucol.  Eclog.  v.  London  : 
Printed  for  R.  Manby  and  H.  S.  Cox,  on  Ludgate-Hill. 
MDCCXLIX.  [Price  Six-pence.]  [On  the  next  leaf:] 
To  George  Lyttleton,  Esq.,  this  Ode  is  inscrib'd  by  the 
Author.     Folio. 

In  the  Dyce  Collection  in  the  South  Kensington  Museum.  Not 
in  the  British  Museum. 


APPENDIX.  Ixxxi 

The  Union  :  or,  Select  Scots  and  English  Poems.  .  .  .  Edinburgh  : 
Printed  for  Archibald  Munro  &  David  Murray.     MDCCLIII. 

Contains  the  Ode  to  Evening  and  the  Ode  on  the  Death  of  Mr. 
Thomson. 

Oriental  Eclogues.  [For  the  rest  of  the  title,  etc.,  see  p.  7.] 
London  :  Printed  for  J.  Payne,  at  Pope's  Head,  in  Pater- 
noster-Row.    MDCCLVII.     (Price  One  Shilling.)     4to. 

In  the  Library  of  Harvard  University  and  the  Boston  Public 
Library. 

The  Poetical  Calendar.  Containing  a  Collection  of  scarce  and 
valuable  Pieces  of  Poetry  :  With  Variety  of  Originals  and 
Translations,  by  the  Most  Eminent  Hands.  .  .  .  Written 
and  Selected  by  Francis  Fawkes,  M.A.,  and  William  Woty. 
In  twelve  volumes.      London  :  .  .  .  1763. 

In  vol.  XI  are  the  Oriental  Eclogues,  the  Odes  of  1747,  the 
Epistle  to  Hanmer,  and  the  Song  from  Shakespear''s  Cymbeline  ;  in 
vol.  XII,  the  Ode  07i  the  Death  of  Mr.  IViomson,  a  sketch  of 
Collins's  life  (with  the  lines  7o  Miss  Aurelia  C A'),  and  John- 
son's description  of  his  character. 

The  Poetical  Works  of  Mr.  William  Collins.  With  Memoirs  of 
the  Author ;  and  Observations  on  his  Genius  and  Writings. 
By  J.  Langhorne.  .  .  .  London  :  Printed  for  T.  Becket  and 
P.  A.  Dehondt,  at  Tully's  Head,  near  Surry  Street,  in  the 
Strand.     MDCCLXV.     8vo. 

Contains  all  the  poems  now  attributed  to  Collins,  except  the  Ode 
on  the  Popidar  Superstitions  of  the  Highlands,  Verses  Written  on  a 

Paper,  To  Miss  Aiirelia  C R,  the  Sotinet,  and  the  Song  about 

Damon.  The  text  is  eclectic.  Some  of  its  blunders  or  unauthor- 
ized changes  have  been  reproduced  again  and  again  down  to  within 
recent  years,  as  most  subsequent  editions  were  based  upon  this 
edition.  Dyce  says  Langhorne's  Collins  was  reprinted  in  1771.  In 
the  Dyce  Collection,  in  the  South  Kensington  Museum,  is  an 
edition  published  in  1776.     Still  another  reprint  appeared  in  1781. 

The  Poetical  Works  of  Mr.  William  Collins.     To  which  are  added 
Mr.   Hammond's   Elegies.     Glasgow :    Printed  by  Robert  & 
Andrew  Foulis.     MDCCLXXI.     i8mo. 
Reprinted  in  1777. 


Ixxxii  APPENDIX. 

The  Poetical  Works  of  Mr.  William  Collins.  To  which  are 
added,  Mr.  Hammond's  Elegies.  Edinburgh  :  Printed  for 
J.  Balfour  and  W.  Creech.     MDCCLXXIII.     8vo. 

This  is  vol.  XLIII  in  the  British  Poets  (same  imprint). 

A  Collection  of  Poems,  in  four  volumes.  By  Several  Hands. 
London:  Printed  for  G.  Pearch,  .  .  .  MDCCLXXV.  [Third 
edition.]     8vo. 

Vol.  II  contains  the  Oriental  Eclogues,  the  odes  on  Thomson, 
Pity,  Simplicity,  Peace,  Mercy,  Liberty,  Fear,  and  the  Poetical  Char- 
acter, The  Manners,  The  Passions,  and  Verses  Written  on  a  Paper. 

The  Works  of  the  English  Poets.  W'ith  Prefaces,  Biographical 
and  Critical,  by  Samuel  Johnson.  Volume  the  Forty-Ninth. 
London  :  .  .  .  MDCCLXXIX.     8vo. 

Collins's  poems,  with  Langhorne's  Observations,  come  last  in 
the  volume,  preceded  by  Thomson's  and  Hammond's.  Reprinted 
in  1790. 

The  Poetical  Works  of  William  Collins.  With  the  Life  of  the 
Author.     Edinburgh,  1781.     i2mo. 

In  vol.  LXXXVIII  of  Bell's  Poets  of  Great  Britain,  complete 
from  Chaucer  to  Churchill;  printed  for  John  Bell,  British  Library, 
Strand,  London,  1781.     Reprinted  in  1787. 

The  Poetical  Works  of  William  Collins.  Glasgow  :  Printed  by 
Andrew  Foulis,  Printer  to  the  University.     1787.     Folio. 

This  edition  contains  a  few  plates,  a  life  of  Collins  stolen  from 
Langhorne's  edition,  and  variant  readings  in  the  Ode  to  a  Lady  and 
the  Ode  to  Evening. 

Transactions  of  the  Royal  Society  of  Edinburgh.  Vol.  I.  Edin- 
burgh :  .  .  .  Sold  in  London  by  T.  Cadell,  in  the  Strand. 
MDCCLXXXVIII. 

Part  II,  Papers  of  the  Literary  Class,  pp.  63-75,  contains  the 
Ode  on  the  Popular  Superstitions  of  the  Highlands  of  Scotland.  In 
the  Library  of  Harvard  University. 

An  Ode  on  the  Popular  Superstitions  of  the  Highlands  of  Scot- 
land ;  considered  as  the  Subject  of  Poetry.     Inscribed  to  Mr. 


APPENDIX.  Ixxxiii 

Home,  Author  of  Douglas.  By  Mr.  William  Collins,  Author 
of  the  Ode  on  the  Passions,  &c.  Never  before  printed. 
Dedicated  to  the  Wartons.  [The  sentence,  in  Johnson's  life 
of  Collins,  about  the  ode,  follows.]  London  :  Printed  by  J. 
Bell,  Bookseller  to  His  Royal  Highness  the  Prince  of  Wales, 
at  the  British  Library,  Strand.      1788.     4to. 

A  second  edition  appeared  in  1789. 

The  Poetical  Works  of  William  Collins.  .  .  .  To  which  is  prefixed 
the  Life  of  the  Author.     Edinburgh  :   1 794.     8vo. 

In  vol.  IX  of  a  Co7nplete  Edition  of  the  Poets  of  Great  Britain, 
published  in  London  and  Edinburgh,  and  edited  by  Robert 
Anderson. 

Roach's  Beauties  of  the  Poets  of  Great  Britain.  .  .  .  From  the 
Works  of  the  Most  Admired  Authors.  In  Six  Volumes. 
London:   1794.      i2mo. 

Vol.  IV  contains  How  Sleep  the  Brave,  the  Oriental  Eclogues, 
and  the  Ode  on  the  Poetical  Character. 

Poems  by  William  Collins,  being  Odes,  descriptive  and  allegorical, 
etc.     Colchester  :  .  .  .  1796.     i2mo. 

Annotated. 

The  Poetical  Works  of  Mr.  William  Collins.  With  a  Prefatory 
Essay  by  Mrs.  Barbauld.  London  :  .  .  .  T.  Cadell,  jr.  & 
W.  Davies,  .  .  .  1797.     8vo. 

Reprinted  in  1802. 

The  Poetical  Works  of  William  Collins,  enriched  with  Elegant 
Engravings.  .  .  .     London  :  .  .  .  E.  Harding,  .  .  .  1798.      8vo. 

The  Poetical  Works  of  William  Collins.  .  .  .  Embellished  with 
Engravings  from  the  Designs  of  Richard  Westall,  Esq.,  R.  A. 
London  :  Printed  .  .  .  for  John  Sharpe.  .  .  .      1804.     i6mo. 

A  handsome  edition.  According  to  Dyce,  the  same  edition,  with 
a  newly  engraved  title-page,  and  without  the  plates,  was  reprinted 
in  181 1. 


Ixxxiv  APPENDIX. 

The  Poetical  Works  of  William  Collins.  Collated  with  the  Best 
Editions  :  by  Thomas  Park,  Esq.,  F.  S.  A.  London  :  1805. 
i6mo. 

In  vol.  XXX  of  the  Works  of  the  British  Poets,  edited  by  Park. 
The  most  critical  edition  that  had  yet  appeared,  although  some  of 
the  errors  in  Langhorne's'  text  were  retained. 

The  Poetical  Works  of  William  Collins  ;  with  the  Life  of  the 
Author  by  Dr.  Johnson ;  Observations  on  his  Writings 
by  Dr.  Langhome  ;  and  Biographical  and  Critical  Notes, 
by  the  Rev.  Alexander  Dyce,  A.B.  Oxon.  London,  Wil- 
liam Pickering,  Chancery  Lane  ;  D.  A.  Talboys,  Oxford. 
MDCCCXXVII. 

Very  valuable,  although  a  collection  of  material  rather  than  a 
finished  edition.     In  the  Boston  PubUc  Library. 

The  Poetical  Works  of  William  Collins.  London  :  William  Pick- 
ering.    1830.     8vo.     [Aldine  edition  of  the  British  Poets.] 

Contains  a  biographical  sketch  based  chiefly  on  Dyce's  material, 
an  Essay  on  the  Genius  and  Poems  of  Collins,  by  Sir  Egerton 
Brydges,  Langhorne's  Observations,  and  variant  readings.  In  the 
Aldine  editions  of  1858,  1866,  and  1894,  Brydges's  Essay  and 
Langhorne's  Observations  were  dropped,  and  a  revised  biographical 
sketch  displaced  the  earlier  one. 

The  Poems  of  William  Collins,  a  New  Edition,  with  a  Critical 
Preface  by  Sir  Egerton  Brydges,  Bart.  Geneva :  1832. 
i6mo. 

The  preface  is  not  the  same  as  the  essay  in  the  Aldine  edition 
of  1830. 

The  Poetical  Works  of  William  Collins.  [The  poems  of  Gray, 
Parnell,  Matthew  Green,  and  T.  Warton  in  the  same  volume.] 
Edited  by  the  Rev.  Robert  Aris  Willmott.  Illustrated. 
London:  Routledge  &  Co.      1854.     8vo. 

An  eclectic  and  critical  text,  and  some  excellent  notes. 

Lectures  on  the  English  Poets,  by  William  Hazlitt. 

A  few  pages  upon  Collins  in  Lecture  VI. 


APPENDIX.  Ixxxv 

The  English  Poets,  edited  by  T.  H.  Ward,  vol.  III. 

The    critical    preface    to    the    selections    from    Collins    is    by 
Swinburne. 

Lowell's  Works,  vol.  IV. 

The  essay  on   Pope,  pp.   3,  4,   contains  a  few  sentences  upon 
Collins. 

The  Athenaeum,  Jan.  5,  1856,  p.  10  et  seq. 

Emile  Montegut.      Heures  de  Lecture  d'un  Critique.     Paris  :  .  .  . 
1891. 

Pp.  162-233  are  devoted  to  Collins. 


EARLY   MINOR    POEMS. 


THE    POEMS    OF    COLLINS. 


^^^©^o 


TO    MISS    AURELIA   C- 


ON    HER    WEEPING    AT    HER    SISTER  S    WEDDING. 

Cease,  fair  Aurelia,  cease  to  mourn  ; 

Lament  not  Hannah's  happy  state ; 
You  may  be  happy  in  your  turn, 

And  seize  the  treasure  you  regret. 

With  Love  united.  Hymen  stands, 
And  softly  whispers  to  your  charms, 

''  Meet  but  your  lover  in  my  bands. 
You  '11  find  your  sister  in  his  arms." 


SONNET. 


When  Phoebe  form'd  a  wanton  smile, 

My  soul,  it  reach'd  not  here  ! 
Strange  that  thy  peace,  thou  trembler,  flies 

Before  a  rising  tear  ! 

From  midst  the  drops  my  love  is  born, 

That  o'er  those  eyelids  rove  : 
Thus  issu'd  from  a  teeming  wave 

The  fabled  queen  of  love. 


SONG. 

the  sentiments  borrow'd  from  shakespear. 

Young  Damon  of  the  vale  is  dead ; 
Ye  lowland  hamlets,  moan  : 

2.  Ye  lowly  hamlets,  moan:  —  Many  editions. 


POEMS   OF   WILLIAM  COLLINS. 

A  dewy  turf  lies  o'er  his  head, 
And  at  his  feet  a  stone. 

His  shroud,  which  death's  cold  damps  destroy,  5 

Of  snow-white  threads  was  made  : 
All  mourn'd  to  see  so  sweet  a  boy 

In  earth  forever  laid. 

Pale  pansies  o'er  his  corpse  were  plac'd. 

Which,  pluck'd  before  their  time,  lo 

Bestrew'd  the  boy,  like  him  to  waste, 
And  wither  in  their  prime. 

But  will  he  ne'er  return,  whose  tongue 

Could  tune  the  rural  lay  .'' 
Ah,  no  !  his  bell  of  peace  is  rung,  15 

His  lips  are^  cold  as  clay., 

They  bore  him  out  at  twilight  hour. 

The  youth  who  lov'd  so  well : 
Ah  me  !  how  many  a  true-love  shower 

Of  kind  remembrance  fell !  20 

Each  maid  was  woe,  but  Lucy  chief ; 

Her  grief  o'er  all  was  tried : 
Within  his  grave  she  dropp'd  in  grief. 

And  o'er  her  lov'd  one  died. 


VERSES 


WRITTEN    ON    A    PAPER    WHICH    CONTAIN  D   A    PIECE    OF 
BRIDE-CAKE    GIV'n    TO    THE    AUTHOR    BY    A    LADY. 

Ye  curious  hands  that,  hid  from  vulgar  eyes. 
By  search  profane  shall  find  this  hallow'd  cake, 

18.  The  youth  belov'd  so  well  : 

—  T/ie  [London^  Public  Advertiser,  March  7,  17S8. 


EARLY  MINOR   POEMS.  5 

With  virtue's  awe  forbear  the  sacred  prize, 
Nor  dare  a  theft,  for  love  and  pity's  sake  ! 

This  precious  relick,  form'd  by  magic  pow'r,  5 

Beneath  the  shepherd's  haunted  pillow  laid. 

Was  meant  by  Love  to  charm  the  silent  hour, 
The  secret  present  of  a  matchless  maid. 

The  Cyprian  queen,  at  Hymen's  fond  request. 

Each  nice  ingredient  chose  with  happiest  art ;  lo 

Fears,  sighs,  and  wishes  of  th'  enamour'd  breast. 
And  pains  that  please,  are  mixt  in  ev'ry  part. 

With  rosy  hand  the  spicy  fruit  she  brought 
From  Paphian  hills  and  fair  Cythera's  isle  : 

And  temper'd  sweet  with  these  the  melting  thought,        15 
The  kiss  ambrosial,  and  the  yielding  smile  ; 

Ambiguous  looks,  that  scorn  and  yet  relent ; 

Denials  mild,  and  firm  unalter'd  truth  ; 
Reluctant  pride,  and  amorous  faint  consent ; 

And  meeting  ardours,  and  exulting  youth.  20 

Sleep,  wayward  god,  hath  sworn,  while  these  remain, 
With  flatt'ring  dreams  to  dry  his  nightly  tear ; 

And  chearful  Hope,  so  oft'invok'd  in  vain. 
With  fairy  songs  shall  sooth  his  pensive  ear. 

If,  bound  by  vows  to  Friendship's  gentle  side,  25 

And  fond  of  soul,  thou  hop'st  an  equal  grace. 

If  youth  or  maid  thy  joys  and  griefs  divide, 
O  much  intreated,  leave  this  fatal  place  ! 

Sweet  Peace,  who  long  hath  shunn'd  my  plaintive  day, 
Consents  at  length  to  bring  me  short  delight  ;  30 

Thy  careless  steps  may  scare  her  doves  away. 
And  Grief  with  raven  note  usurp  the  night. 


POEMS  OF   WILLIAM  COLLINS. 


A    SONG    FROM    SHAKESPEAR'S    CYMBELYNE. 

sung    by    guiderus    and    arviragus    over    fidele, 
suppos'd  to  be  dead. 

To  fair  Fidele's  grassy  tomb 

Soft  maids  and  village  hinds  shall  bring 

Each  op'ning  sweet,  of  earliest  bloom, 
And  rifle  all  the  breathing  spring. 

No  wailing  ghost  shall  dare  appear,  5 

To  vex  with  shrieks  this  quiet  grove: 

But  shepherd  lads  assemble  here, 
And  melting  virgins  own  their  love. 

No  wither'd  witch  shall  here  be  seen. 

No  goblins  lead  their  nightly  crew  :  lo 

The  female  fays  shall  haunt  the  green, 

And  dress  thy  grave  with  pearly  dew. 

The  redbreast  oft  at  ev'ning  hours 

Shall  kindly  lend  his  little  aid, 
With  hoary  moss,  and  gather'd  flow'rs,  15 

To  deck  the  ground  where  thou  art  laid. 

When  howling  winds,  and  beating  rain, 

In  tempests  shake  the  sylvan  cell, 
Or  midst  the  chace  on  ev'ry  plain. 

The  tender  thought  on  thee  shall  dwell.  20 

Each  lonely  scene  shall  thee  restore. 

For  thee  the  tear  be  duly  shed  : 
Belov'd,  till  life  could  charm  no  more; 

And  mourn'd,  till  Pity's  self  be  dead. 


ORIENTAL  ECLOGUES. 

WRITTEN  ORIGINALLY  FOR  THE  ENTERTAINMENT  OF  THE 
LADIES  OF  TAURIS.   AND  NOW  TRANSLATED. 

—  Ubi  primus  equis  Oriens  adjlavit  anJielis. 

—  ViKG.  Georg.  Lib.  I. 


THE    PREFACE.i 

It  is  with  tlie  writings  of  mankind,  in  some  measure,  as  with 
tlieir  complexions  or  tlieir  dress  ;  eacli  nation  liatli  a  peculiar- 
ity in  all  these,  to  distinguish  it  from  the  rest  of  the  world. 

The  gravity  of  the  Spaniard,  and  the  levity  of  the  P'renchman, 
are  as  evident  in  all  their  productions  as  in  their  persons  them- 
selves ;  and  the  style  of  my  countrymen  is  as  naturally  strong  and 
nervous,  as  that  of  an  Arabian  or  Persian  is  rich  and  figurative. 

There  is  an  elegancy  and  wildness  of  thought  which  recom- 
mends all  their  compositions  ;  and  our  geniuses  are  as  much  too 
cold  for  the  entertainment  of  such  sentiments,  as  our  climate  is 
for  their  fruits  and  spices.  If  any  of  these  beauties  are  to  be 
found  in  the  following  Eclogues,  I  hope  my  reader  will  consider 
them  as  an  argument  of  their  being  original.  I  received  them 
at  the  hands  of  a  merchant,  who  had  made  it  his  business  to 
enrich  himself  with  the  learning,  as  well  as  the  silks  and  carpets 
of  the  Persians.  The  little  information  I  could  gather  concern- 
ing their  author,  was,  that  his  name  was  Abdallah,  and  that  he 
was  a  native  of  Tauris, 

It  was  in  that  city  that  he  died  of  a  distemper  fatal  in  those 
parts,  whilst  he  was  engaged  in  celebrating  the  victories  of  his 
favourite  monarch,  the  great  Abbas.^  As  to  the  Eclogtces  them- 
selves, they  give  a  very  just  view  of  the  miseries  and  incon- 
veniences, as  well  as  the  felicities,  that  attend  one  of  the  finest 
countries  in  the  East. 

The  time  of  writing  them  was  probably  in  the  beginning  of 
Sha  Sultan  Hosseyn's  reign,  the  successor  of  Sefi  or  Solyman 
the  second. 

1  In  the  Dyce  Collection,  in  the  South  Kensington  Museum,  are 
two  copies  of  the  1742  edition  of  the  Eclogues,  one  with  the  Preface 
and  the  other  without  it. 

2  In  the  Persian  tongue,  Abbas  signifieth  "  the  father  of  the 
people."  —  C 


10  PREFACE. 

Whatever  defects,  as,  I  doubt  not,  there  will  be  many,  fall 
under  the  reader's  observation,  I  hope  his  candour  will  incline 
him  to  make  the  following  reflection  : 

That  the  works  of  Orientals  contain  many  peculiarities,  and 
that,  through  defect  of  language,  few  European  translators  can 
do  them  justice. 


ECLOGUE   THE   FIRST. 

SELIM  ;    OR,    THE    SHEPHERD'S    MORAL. 

Scette,  a  valley  near  Bagdat.      Time,  the  morning. 

"Ye  Persian  maids,  attend  your  poet's  lays, 
And  hear  how  shepherds  pass  their  golden  days. 
Not  all  are  blest,  whom  Fortune's  hand  sustains 
With  wealth  in  courts,  nor  all  that  haunt  the  plains  : 
Well  may  your  hearts  believe  the  truths  I  tell ;  5 

'T  is  virtue  makes  the  bliss,  where'er  we  dwell." 

Thus  Selim  sung,  by  sacred  Truth  inspir'd  ; 
Nor  praise,  but  such  as  Truth  bestow'd,  desir'd  : 
Wise  in  himself,  his  meaning  songs  convey'd 
Informing  morals  to  the  shepherd  maid ;  10 

Or  taught  the  swains  that  surest  bliss  to  find. 
What  groves  nor  streams  bestow,  a  virtuous  mind. 

When  sweet  and  blushing,  like  a  virgin  bride. 
The  radiant  Morn  resum'd  her  orient  pride; 
When  wanton  gales  along  the  valleys  play,  15 

Breathe  on  each  flow'r,  and  bear  their  sweets  away  ; 
By  Tigris'  wand'ring  waves  he  sate,  and  sung 
This  useful  lesson  for  the  fair  and  young. 

"  Ye  Persian  dames,"  he  said,  "  to  you  belong, 
W'ell  may  they  please,  the  morals  of  my  song  :  20 

8.  No  praise  the  youth,  but  hers  alone  desir'd  :  —  1742. 

13.  When  sweet  and  od'rous,  like  an  Eastern  bride,  —  1742. 

17.  By  Tigris'  wand'rer  waves  he  sate,  and  sung  —  1742. 

19.  "  Ye  Persian  dames,"  he  said,  "to  ye  belong,  —  1742- 


12  POEMS   OF   WILLIAM  COLLINS. 

No  fairer  maids,  I  trust,  than  you  are  found, 

Grac'd  with  soft  arts,  the  peopled  world  around  ! 

The  Morn  that  lights  you,  to  your  loves  supplies 

Each  gentler  ray  delicious  to  your  eyes  : 

For  you  those  flow'rs  her  fragrant  hands  bestow,  25 

And  yours  the  love  that  kings  delight  to  know. 

Yet  think  not  these,  all  beauteous  as  they  are. 

The  best  kind  blessings  heav'n  can  grant  the  fair  ! 

Who  trust  alone  in  beauty's  feeble  ray. 

Boast  but  the  worth  Balsora's  ^  pearls  display  ;  3° 

Drawn  from  the  deep  we  own  their  surface  bright, 

But,  dark  within,  they  drink  no  lustrous  light : 

Such  are  the  maids,  and  such  the  charms  they  boast, 

By  sense  unaided,  or  to  virtue  lost. 

Self-fiatt'ring  sex  !  your  hearts  believe  in  vain  35 

That  Love  shall  blind,  when  once  he  fires,  the  swain  ; 

Or  hope  a  lover  by  your  faults  to  win. 

As  spots  on  ermin  beautify  the  skin : 

Who  seeks  secure  to  rule,  be  first  her  care 

Each  softer  virtue  that  adorns  the  fair  ;  4° 

Each  tender  passion  man  delights  to  find. 

The  lov'd  perfections  of  a  female  mind  ! 

"  Blest  were  the  days  when  Wisdom  held  her  reign, 
And  shepherds  sought  her  on  the  silent  plain  ; 
With  Truth  she  wedded  in  the  secret  grove,'  45 

Immortal  Truth,  and  daughters  bless'd  their  love. 

21.  No  fairer  maids,  I  trust,  than  ye  are  found,  —  1742. 

25.  For  ye  those  flow'rs  her  fragrant  hands  bestow,  — 1742. 

30-32.  Balsora's  pearls  have  more  of  worth,  than  they  ; 
Drawn  from  the  deep,  they  sparkle  to  the  sight, 
And  all-unconscious  shoot  a  lustrous  light :  —  ■742- 

46.  The  fair-ey'd  Truth,  and  daughters  bless'd  their  love. 

—  1742. 

1  The  gulph  of  that  name,  famous  for  the  pearl  fishery.  —  C. 


OR  I E  XT  A  L   ECLOGUES. 


13 


O  haste,  fair  maids  !  ye  Virtues,  come  away  ! 
Sweet  Peace  and  Plenty  lead  you  on  your  way  ! 
The  balmy  shrub,  for  you.  shall  love  our  shore, 
Bv  Ind  excell'd  or  Arabv  no  more. 


"  Lost  to  our  fields,  for  so  the  Fates  ordain. 
The  dear  deserters  shall  return  again. 
Come  thou,  whose  thoughts  as  limpid  springs  are  clear, 
To  lead  the  train  :  sweet  Modest}",  appear : 
Here  make  thy  court  amidst  our  rural  scene, 
And  shepherd  girls  shall  own  thee  for  their  queen. 
With  thee  be  Chastity,  of  all  afraid. 
Distrusting  alL  a  wise  suspicious  maid ; 
But  man  the  most — not  more  the  mountain  doe 
Holds  the  swift  falcon  for  her  deadly  foe. 
Cold  is  her  breasL  like  flow'rs  that  drink  the  dew : 
A  silken  veil  conceals  her  from  the  \-iew. 
No  wild  Desires  amidst  thy  train  be  known. 
But  Faith,  whose  heart  is  fix'd  on  one  alone  : 
Desponding  Meekness  with  her  down-c-st  eyes  : 
And  friendly  Pit}*  full  of  tender  sighs  : 
-\nd  Love  the  last.     By  these  your  heans  approve. 
These  are  the  virtues  that  must  lead  to  love." 


60 


6; 


Thus  sung  the  swain  :   and  ancient  legends  say. 
The  maids  of  Bagdat  verined  the  lav  : 
Dear  to  the  plains,  the  Virtues  came  along. 
The  shepherds  lov"d.  and  Selim  bless'd  his  song. 

THE  Exr>  C'F  THE  f:k?t  eci:':.ve. 


ove  o'lIt  sr.ore. 


40.  The  ba]n-jy  shrab.  for  ve.  ^hal 
.  5-.  O  come,  thor  Modestv.  as  ihc_ 

The  rose  may  then  improxe  her  blush  bv  thee 
60.  Thtis  sung  the  swain,  and  eastern  legends  sav. 


—  1-4: 


VT-<>^         «9 


O/i-x^ 


14  POEMS  OF   WILLIAM  COLLINS. 


ECLOGUE   THE    SECOND. 

HASSAN  ;    OR,    THE    CAMEL    DRIVER. 
Scene,  the  desart.      Time,  mid-day. 

In  silent  horror  o'er  the  boundless  waste 
The  driver  Hassan  with  his  camels  past. 
One  cruise  of  water  on  his  back  he  bore, 
And  his  light  scrip  contain'd  a  scanty  store  ; 
A  fan  of  painted  feathers  in  his  hand, 
To  guard  his  shaded  face  from  scorching  sand. 
The  sultry  sun  had  gain'd  the  middle  sky, 
And  not  a  tree,  and  not  an  herb  was  nigh ; 
The  beasts,  with  pain,  their  dusty  way  pursue. 
Shrill  roar'd  the  winds,  and  dreary  was  the  view  ! 
With  desp'rate  sorrow  wild,  th'  affrighted  man 
Thrice  sigh'd,  thrice  strook  his  breast,  and  thus  began  : 
"Sad  was  the  hour,  and  luckless  was  the  day, 
"  When  first  from  Schiraz'  walls  I  bent  my  way. 

"  Ah  !  little  thought  I  of  the  blasting  wind. 
The  thirst  or  pinching  hunger  that  I  find  ! 
Bethink  thee,  Hassan,  where  shall  Thirst  asswage, 
When  fails  this  cruise,  his  unrelenting  rage  ? 
Soon  shall  this  scrip  its  precious  load  resign  ; 
Then  what  but  tears  and  hunger  shall  be  thine  ? 

"Ye  mute  companions  of  my  toils,  that  bear 
In  all  my  griefs  a  more  than  equal  share  ! 
Here,  where  no  springs  in  murmurs  break  away, 
Or  moss-crown'd  fountains  mitigate  the  day, 
In  vain  ye  hope  the  green  delights  to  know,  - 

Which  plains  more  blest,  or  verdant  vales  bestow : 

I.   In  silent  horror  o'er  the  desart-waste  —  1742- 


ORIENTAL   ECLOGUES.  15 

Here  rocks  alone,  and  tasteless  sands,  are  found. 
And  faint  and  sickly  winds  forever  howl  around. 
"  Sad  was  the  hour,  and  luckless  was  the  day, 
"  When  first  from  Schiraz'  walls  I  bent  my  way  !         3° 

"Curst  be  the  gold  and  silver  which  persuade 

Weak  men  to  follow  far-fatiguing  trade  ! 

The  lilly  peace  outshines  the  silver  store, 

And  life  is  dearer  than  the  golden  ore: 

Yet  money  tempts  us  o'er  the  desart  brown,  35 

To  ev'ry  distant  mart  and  wealthy  town. 

Full  oft  we  tempt  the  land,  and  oft  the  sea  ; 

And  are  we  only  yet  repaid  by  thee  ? 

Ah  !  why  was  ruin  so  attractive  made, 

Or  why  fond  man  so  easily  betrayed  ?  40 

Why  heed  we  not,  whilst  mad  we  haste  along, 

The  gentle  voice  of  Peace,  or  Pleasure's  song  ? 

Or  wherefore  think  the  flow'ry  mountain's  side, 

The  fountain's  murmurs,  and  the  valley's  pride. 

Why  think  we  these  less  pleasing  to  behold,  45 

Than  dreary  desarts  if  they  lead  to  gold  ? 

"  Sad  was  the  hour,  and  luckless  was  the  day, 
"  When  first  from  Schiraz'  walls  I  bent  my  way ! 

"  O  cease,  my  fears  ! —  all  frantic  as  I  go. 
When  thought  creates  unnumber'd  scenes  of  woe,  5° 

What  if  the  lion  in  his  rage  I  meet !  — 
Oft  in  the  dust  I  view  his  printed  feet : 
And  (fearful !)  oft,  when  Day's  declining  light 
Yields  her  pale  empire  to  the  mourner  Night, 
By  hunger  rous'd,  he  scours  the  groaning  plain,  55 

Gaunt  wolves  and  sullen  tygers  in  his  train : 
Before  them  Death  with  shrieks  directs  their  way. 
Fills  the  wild  yell,  and  leads  them  to  their  prey. 


16  POEMS   OF   WILLIAM  COLLINS. 

"  Sad  was  the  hour,  and  luckless  was  the  day, 

"  When  first  from  Schiraz'  walls  I  bent  my  way !          60 

"  At  that  dead  hour  the  silent  asp  shall  creep, 
If  aught  of  rest  I  find,  upon  my  sleep : 
Or  some  swoln  serpent  twist  his  scales  around, 
And  wake  to  anguish  with  a  burning  wound. 
Thrice  happy  they,  the  wise  contented  poor,  65 

From  lust  of  wealth,  and  dread  of  death  secure ! 
They  tempt  no  desarts,  and  no  griefs  they  find ; 
Peace  rules  the  day,  where  reason  rules  the  mind. 
"  Sad  was  the  hour,  and  luckless  was  the  day, 
"  When  first  from  Schiraz'  walls  I  bent  my  way  !  70 

"  O  hapless  youth  !  for  she  thy  love  hath  won, 
The  tender  Zara,  will  be  most  undone  ! 
Big  swell'd  my  heart,  and  own'd  the  pow'rful  maid. 
When  fast  she  dropp'd  her  tears,  as  thus  she  said  : 
*  Farewell  the  youth  whom  sighs  could  not  detain,  75 

Whom  Zara's  breaking  heart  implor'd  in  vain  ! 
Yet,  as  thou  go'st,  may  ev'ry  blast  arise 
Weak  and  unfelt  as  these  rejected  sighs  ! 
Safe  o'er  the  wild,  no  perils  mayst  thou  see. 
No  griefs  endure,  nor  weep,  false  youth,  like  me.'  80 

O  let  me  safely  to  the  fair  return. 
Say  with  a  kiss,  she  must  not,  shall  not  mourn ! 
O  let  me  teach  my  heart  to  lose  its  fears, 
Recall'd  by  Wisdom's  voice,  and  Zara's  tears  !  " 

He  said,  and  call'd  on  hcav'n  to  bless  the  day,  85 

When  back  to  Schiraz'  walls  he  bent  his  way. 

THE    END    OF   THE    SECOND    ECLOGUE. 

83.  Go  teach  my  heart  to  lose  its  painful  fears,  —  1742. 


ORIENTAL   ECLOGUES.  17 


ECLOGUE    THE   THIRD. 

ABRA  ;  OR,  THE  GEORGIAN  SULTANA. 

Scene,  a  forest.      Titne,  the  evening. 

In  Georgia's  land,  where  Tefflis'  tow'rs  are  seen, 
In  distant  view  along  the  level  green, 
While  ev'ning  dews  enrich  the  glitt'ring  glade, 
And  the  tall  forests  cast  a  longer  shade, 
What  time  't  is  sweet  o'er  fields  of  rice  to  stray,  5 

Or  scent  the  breathing  maize  at  setting  day ;  ^ 
Amidst  the  maids  of  Zagen's  peaceful  grove, 
Emyra  sung  the  pleasing  cares  of  love. 

Of  Abra  first  began  the  tender  strain. 
Who  led  her  youth  with  flocks  upon  the  plain  :  lo 

At  morn  she  came  those  willing  flocks  to  lead. 
Where  lillies  rear  them  in  the  wat'ry  mead ; 
From  early  dawn  the  live-long  hours  she  told. 
Till  late  at  silent  eve  she  penn'd  the  fold. 
Deep  in  the  grove,  beneath  the  secret  shade,  15 

A  various  wreath  of  od'rous  flow'rs  she  made  : 
Gay-motley'd  pinks  and  sweet  jonquils  she  chose. 
The  violet  blue  that  on  the  moss-bank  grows ; 
All  sweet  to  sense,  the  flaunting  rose  was  there :  ^ 
The  finish'd  chaplet  well  adorn'd  her  hair.  20 

Great  Abbas  chanc'd  that  fated  morn  to  stray, 
By  Love  conducted  from  the  chace  away; 
Among  the  vocal  vales  he  heard  her  song. 
And  sought  the  vales  and  echoing  groves  among : 

^  Lines  5  and  6  were  not  in  the  edition  of  1742. 

^  That  these  flowers  are  found  in  very  great  abundance  in  some 
of  the  provinces  of  Persia,  see  the  Modern  Llistory  of  tlie  ingenious 
Mr.  Salmon.  —  C. 


18  POEMS   OF   WILLIAM  COLLINS. 

At  length  he  found  and  woo'd  the  rural  maid ;  25 

She  knew  the  monarch,  and  with  fear  obey'd. 
"  Be  ev'ry  youth  like  royal  Abbas  mov'd, 
"  And  ev'ry  Georgian  maid  like  Abra  lov'd  !  " 

The  royal  lover  bore  her  from  the  plain ; 
Yet  still  her  crook  and  bleating  flock  remain  :  30 

Oft,  as  she  went,  she  backward  turn'd  her  view, 
And  bad  that  crook  and  bleating  flock  adieu. 
Fair  happy  maid  !  to  other  scenes  remove, 
To  richer  scenes  of  golden  power  and  love  ! 
Go  leave  the  simple  pipe,  and  shepherd's  strain  ;         35 
With  love  delight  thee,  and  with  Abbas  reign. 
"  Be  ev'ry  youth  like  royal  Abbas  mov'd, 
"  And  ev'ry  Georgian  maid  like  Abra  lov'd  !  " 

Yet  midst  the  blaze  of  courts  she  fix'd  her  love 
On  the  cool  fountain,  or  the  shady  grove  ;  40 

Still  with  the  shepherd's  innocence  her  mind 
To  the  sweet  vale  and  flow'ry  mead  inclin'd ; 
And  oft  as  Spring  renew'd  the  plains  with  flow'rs, 
Breath'd  his  soft  gales,  and  led  the  fragrant  Hours, 
With  sure  return  she  sought  the  sylvan  scene,  45 

The  breezy  mountains,  and  the  forests  green. 
Her  maids  around  her  mov'd,  a  duteous  band. 
Each  bore  a  crook,  all  rural,  in  her  hand  : 
Some  simple  lay  of  flocks  and  herds  they  sung; 
With  joy  the  mountain  and  the  forest  rung.  50 

"  Be  ev'ry  youth  like  royal  Abbas  mov'd, 
"  And  ev'ry  Georgian  maid  like  Abra  lov'd  ! 

And  oft  the  royal  lover  left  the  care 

And  thorns  of  state,  attendant  on  the  fair ; 

Oft  to  the  shades  and  low-roof'd  cots  retir'd,  55 

Or  sought  the  vale  where  first  his  heart  was  fir'd  : 


ORIENTAL   ECLOGUES.  19 

A  russet  mantle,  like  a  swain,  he  wore, 
And  thought  of  crowns  and  busy  courts  no  more. 
"'  Be  ev'ry  youth  like  royal  Abbas  mov'd, 
"  And  ev'ry  Georgian  maid  like  Abra  lov'd  !  "  60 

Blest  was  the  life  that  royal  Abbas  led  : 

Sweet  was  his  love,  and  innocent  his  bed. 

What  if  in  wealth  the  noble  maid  excel ; 

The  simple  shepherd  girl  can  love  as  well. 

Let  those  who  rule  on  Persia's  jewell'd  throne,  65 

Be  fam'd  for  love,  and  gentlest  love,  alone  ; 

Or  wreath,  like  Abbas,  full  of  fair  renown. 

The  lover's  myrtle  with  the  warrior's  crown. 

O  happy  days  !  the  maids  around  her  say  ; 

O  haste,  profuse  of  blessings,  haste  away  !  7° 

"  Be  ev'ry  youth  like  royal  Abbas  mov'd, 
"  And  ev'ry  Georgian  maid  like  Abra  lov'd  !  " 

THE    END    OF   THE   THIRD    ECLOGUE. 


ECLOGUE   THE   FOURTH. 

AGIB    AND    SECANDER;    OR,    THE    FUGITIVES. 
Scene,  a  mountain  in  Circassia.     Time,  midnight. 

In  fair  Circassia,  where,  to  love  inclin'd. 
Each  swain  was  blest,  for  ev'ry  maid  was  kind  ; 
At  that  still  hour  when  awful  midnight  reigns. 
And  none  but  wretches  haunt  the  twilight  plains  ; 
What  time  the  moon  had  hung  her  lamp  on  high, 
And  past  in  radiance  thro'  the  cloudless  sky  ; 
Sad,  o'er  the  dews,  two  brother  shepherds  fled. 
Where  wild'ring  Fear  and  desp'rate  Sorrow  led  ; 


20  POEMS   OF   WILLIAM  COLLINS. 

Fast  as  they  prest  their  flight,  behind  them  lay 
Wide  ravag'd  plains,  and  vallies  stole  away.  lo 

Along  the  mountain's  bending  sides  they  ran, 
Till,  faint  and  weak,  Secander  thus  began. 

Secander. 

O  stay  thee,  Agib,  for  iny  feet  deny, 
No  longer  friendly  to  my  life,  to  fly. 
Friend  of  my  heart,  O  turn  thee  and  survey,  15 

Trace  our  sad  flight  thro'  all  its  length  of  way ! 
And  first  review  that  long  extended  plain, 
And  yon  wide  groves,  already  past  with  pain  ! 
Yon  ragged  cliff,  whose  dang'rous  path  we  try'd  ! 
And  last  this  lofty  mountain's  weary  side !  20 

Agib. 

Weak  as  thou  art,  yet  hapless  must  thou  know 
The  toils  of  flight,  or  some  severer  woe  ! 
Still,  as  I  haste,  the  Tartar  shouts  behind, 
And  shrieks  and  sorrows  load  the  sadd'ning  wind  : 
In  rage  of  heart,  with  ruin  in  his  hand,  25 

He  blasts  our  harvests,  and  deforms  our  land. 
Yon  citron  grove,  whence  first  in  fear  we  came. 
Droops  its  fair  honours  to  the  conqu'ring  flame 
Far  fly  the  swains,  like  us,  in  deep  despair, 
And  leave  to  ruflian  bands  their  fleecy  care.  3° 

Secander. 

Unhappy  land,  whose  blessings  tempt  the  sword. 
In  vain,  unheard,  thou  call'st  thy  Persian  lord  ! 
In  vain  thou  court'st  him,  helpless,  to  thine  aid 
To  shield  the  shepherd,  and  protect  the  maid  ! 
Far  off,  in  thoughtless  indolence  resign'd,  35 

Soft  dreams  of  love  and  pleasure  sooth  his  mind  : 


ORIENTAL   ECLOGUES.  21 

Midst  fair  sultanas  lost  in  idle  joy, 

No  wars  alarm  him,  and  no  fears  annoy. 

Agib. 

Yet  these  green  hills,  in  summer's  sultry  heat, 
Have  lent  the  monarch  oft  a  cool  retreat.  "^4° 

Sweet  to  the  sight  is  Zabran's  flow'ry  pla^in. 
And  once  by  maids  and  shepherds  lov'd  in  vain  ! 
No  more  the  virgins  shall  delight  to  rove 
By  Sargis'  banks,  or  Irwan's  shady  grove  ; 
On  Tarkie's  mountain  catch  the  cooling  gale,  45 

Or  breathe  the  scents  of  Aly's  fiow'ry  vale  : 
Fair  scenes  !  but,  ah !  no  more  with  peace  possest, 
With  ease  alluring,  and  with  plenty  blest. 
No  more  the  shepherds'  whit'ning  tents  appear, 
Nor  the  kind  products  of  a  bounteous  year  ;  5° 

No  more  the  date  with  snowy  blossoms  crown'd  ! 
But  Ruin  spreads  her  baleful  fires  around. 

Secander. 

In  vain  Circassia  boasts  her  spicy  groves. 
For  ever  fam'd  for  pure  and  happy  loves  : 
In  vain  she  boasts  her  fairest  of  the  fair,  55 

Their  eyes'  blue  languish,  and  their  golden  hair! 
Those  eyes  in  tears  their  fruitless  grief  must  send ; 
Those  hairs  the  Tartar's  cruel  hand  shall  rend. 

Agib. 

Ye  Georgian  swains  that  piteous  learn  from  far 
Circassia's  ruin,  and  the  waste  of  war,  6o 

Some  weightier  arms  than  crooks  and  staves  prepare, 
To  shield  your  harvests,  and  defend  your  fair  : 

49-  No  more  the  shepherds'  whit'ning  seats  appear,  —  I742- 

51.  No  more  the  dale  with  snowy  blossoms  crown'd  1        —  1742. 


22  POEMS   OF    WILLIAM  COLLINS. 

The  Turk  and  Tartar  like  designs  pursue, 

Fix'd  to  destroy,  and  steadfast  to  undo. 

Wild  as  his  land,  in  native  desarts  bred,  65 

By  lust  incited,  or  by  malice  led. 

The  villain  Arab,  as  he  prowls  for  prey. 

Oft  marks  with  blood  and  wasting  flames  the  way; 

Yet  none  so  cruel  as  the  Tartar  foe, 

To  death  inur'd,  and  nurst  in  scenes  of  woe.  7° 

He  said  ;  when  loud  along  the  vale  was  heard 
A  shriller  shriek,  and  nearer  fires  appear'd : 
Th'  affrighted  shepherds,  thro'  the  dews  of  night. 
Wide  o'er  the  moonlight  hills  renew'd  their  flight. 

THE    END    OF    THE    FOURTH    AND    LAST    ECLOGUE. 


AN    EPISTLE 


ADDRESST    TO    SIR    THOMAS    HANMER    ON    HIS    EDITION 
OF     SHAKESPEAR's     WORKS. 


TO    SIR   THOMAS    HANMER: 
Sir, 

While,  born  to  bring  the  Muse's  happier  days, 
A  patriot's  hand  protects  a  poet's  lays  : 
While,  nurst  by  you,  she  sees  her  myrtles  bloom, 
Green  and  unwither'd  o'er  his  honour'd  tomb  : 
Excuse  her  doubts,  ifyet  she  fears  to  tell  5 

What  secret  transports  in  her  bosom  swell  : 
With  conscious  awe  she  hears  the  critic's  fame. 
And  blushing  hides  her  wreath  at  Shakespear's  name. 
Hard  was  the  lot  those  injur'd  strains  endur'd, 
Unown'd  by  Science,  and  by  years  obscur'd  :  lo 

Fair  Fancy  wept;  and  echoing  sighs  confest 
A  fixt  despair  in  ev'ry  tuneful  breast. 
Not  with  more  grief  th'  afiflicted  swains  appear 
When  wintry  winds  deform  the  plenteous  year: 

1-6.    While,  own'd  by  you,  with  smiles  the  Muse  surveys 
Th'  expected  triumph  of  her  sweetest  lays  ; 
While,  stretch'd  at  ease,  she  boasts  your  guardian  aid. 
Secure  and  happy  in  hgr  sylvan  shade; 
Excuse  her  iea.rsfm\o  scarce  a  verse  bestows 
In  just  ronrembrance  of  the  debt  she  owes  :  ■ —  1743. 

9-16.    Long-slighted  Fancy,  with  a  mother's  care, 

Wept  o'er  his  works,  and  felt  the  last  despair. 
Torn  from  her  head,  she  saw  the  roses  fall, 
Ey  all  deserted,  tho'  admir'd  by  all. 
"  And  oh  !  "  she  cry'd,  "  shall  Science  still  resign 
Whate'er  is  Nature's,  and  whate'er  is  mine? 
Shall  Taste  and  Art  but  shew  a  cold  regard. 
And  scornful  Pride  reject  th'  unletter'd  bard .'' 
Ye  myrtled  nymphs,  who  own  my  gentle  reign, 
Tune  the  sweet  lyre,  and  grace  my  airy  train  ! 


26  POEMS   OF   WILLIAM  COLLINS. 

When  ling'ring  frosts  the  ruin'd  seats  invade  '5 

Where  Peace  resorted,  and  the  Graces  play'd. 

Each  rising  art  by  just  gradation  moves, 
Toil  builds  on  toil,  and  age  on  age  improves  : 
The  Muse  alone  unequal  dealt  her  rage. 
And  grac'd  with  noblest  pomp  her  earliest  stage.  20 

Preserv'd  thro'  time,  the  speaking  scenes  impart 
Each  changeful  wish  of  Phaedra's  tortur'd  heart : 
Or  paint  the  curse  that  mark'd  the  Theban's  ^  reign, 
A  bed  incestuous,  and  a  father  slain. 

With  kind  concern  our  pitying  eyes  o'erflow,  25 

Trace  the  sad  tale,  and  own  another's  woe. 

To  Rome  remov'd,  with  wit  secure  to  please, 
The  Comic  Sisters  kept  their  native  ease. 
With  jealous  fear  declining  Greece  beheld 
Her  own  Menander's  art  almost  excell'd  !  3° 

But  ev'ry  Muse  essay'd  to  raise  in  vain 
Some  labour'd  rival  of  her  tragic  strain  ; 
Ilissus'  laurels,  tho'  transferr'd  with  toil, 
Droop'd  their  fair  leaves,  nor  knew  th'  unfriendly  soil. 

If,  where  ye  rove,  your  searching  eyes  have  known 
One  perfect  mind,  which  judgment  calls  its  own: 
There  ev'ry  breast  its  fondest  hopes  must  bend. 
And  ev'ry  Muse  with  tears  await  her  friend." 
'Twas  then  fair  Isis  from  her  stream  arose, 
In  kind  compassion  of  her  sister's  woes. 
'Twas  then  she  promis'd  to  the  mourning  maid 
Th'  immortal  honours,  which  thy  hands  have  paid: 
"  My  best-lov'd  son,"  she  said,  "shall  yet  restore 
Thy  ruin'd  sweets,  and  Fancy  weep  no  more."  — 1743- 

25.    Line  after  line,  our  pitying  eyes  o'erflow,  — I743- 

27.    To  Rome  remov'd,  with  equal  pow'r  to  please,         — 1743' 

1  The  (Edipus  of  Sophocles.  —  C. 


AA"  EPISTLE.  27 

As  Arts  expir'd,  resistless  Dullness  rose ;  35 

Goths,  priests,  or  Vandals,  —  all  were  Learning's  foes. 
Till  Julius '  first  recall'd  each  exil'd  maid, 
And  Cosmo  own'd  them  in  th'  Etrurian  shade  : 
Then,  deeply  skill'd  in  love's  engaging  theme. 
The  soft  Provencal  pass'd  to  Arno's  stream  :  40 

With  graceful  ease  the  wanton  lyre  he  strung, 
Sweet  fiow'd  the  lays  —  but  love  was  all  he  sung. 
The  gay  description  could  not  fail  to  move  ; 
For,  led  by  nature,  all  are  friends  to  love. 

But  heav'n,  still  various  in  its  works,  decreed  45 

The  perfect  boast  of  time  should  last  succeed. 
The  beauteous  union  must  appear,  at  length. 
Of  Tuscan  fancy,  and  Athenian  strength  : 
One  greater  Muse  Eliza's  reign  adorn. 
And  ev'n  a  Shakespear  to  her  fame  be  born  !  50 

Yet  ah  !  so  bright  her  morning's  op'ning  ray. 
In  vain  our  Britain  hop'd  an  equal  day ! 
No  second  growth  the  western  isle  could  bear, 
At  once  exhausted  with  too  rich  a  year. 
Too  nicely  Johnson  knew  the  critic's  part  ;  55 

Nature  in  him  was  almost  lost  in  art. 

35-42.    When  Rome  herself,  her  envy'd  glories  dead, 
No  more  imperial,  stoop'd  her  conquer'd  head : 
Luxuriant  Florence  chose  a  softer  theme, 
While  all  was  peace,  by  Arno's  silver  stream. 
With  sweeter  notes  th'  Etrurian  vales  complain'd, 
And  arts  reviving  told  —  a  Cosmo  reign 'd. 
Their  wanton  lyres  the  bards  of  Provence  strung, 
Sweet  flow'd  the  lays,  but  love  was  all  they  sung.        —  I743- 
45.    But  heav'n,  still  rising  in  its  works,  decreed  —  I743- 

^  Julius    the  Second,    the    immediate  predecessor    of    Leo    the 
Tenth.  —  C. 


28  POEMS   OF   WILLIAM  COLLINS. 

Of  softer  mold  the  gentle  Fletcher  came, 

The  next  in  order,  as  the  next  in  name. 

With  pleas'd  attention  midst  his  scenes  we  find 

Each  glowing  thought  that  warms  the  female  mind  ;       60 

Each  melting  sigh,  and  ev'ry  tender  tear. 

The  lover's  wishes  and  the  virgin's  fear. 

His  ev'ry  strain  the  Smiles  and  Graces  own ;  ^ 

But  stronger  Shakespear  felt  for  man  alone : 

Drawn  by  his  pen,  our  ruder  passions  stand  65 

Th'  unrivall'd  picture  of  his  early  hand. 

With  gradual  steps  and  slow,-  exacter  France 
Saw  Art's  fair  empire  o'er  her  shores  advance  : 
By  length  of  toil,  a  bright  perfection  knew, 
Correctly  bold,  and  just  in  all  she  drew.  7° 

Till  late  Corneille,  with  Lucan's^  spirit  fir'd, 
Breath'd  the  free  strain,  as  Rome  and  he  inspir'd  : 
And  classic  judgment  gained  to  sweet  Racine 
The  temp'rate  strength  of  Maro's  chaster  line. 

But  wilder  far  the  British  laurel  spread,  75 

And  wreaths  less  artful  crown  our  poet's  head. 
Yet  he  alone  to  ev'ry  scene  could  give 
Th'  historian's  truth,  and  bid  the  manners  live. 
Wak'd  at  his  call  I  view,  with  glad  surprise, 
Majestic  forms  of  mighty  monarchs  rise.  80 

63.    His  ev'ry  strain  the  Loves  and  Graces  own  ;  —  '743- 

71,  72.    Till  late  Corneille  from  epick  Lucan  brought 

The  full  expression,  and  the  Roman  thought  ;  —  i743- 

1  Their  characters  are  thus  distinguished  by  Mr.  Dryden.  —  C. 

2  About  the  time  of  Shakespear,  the  poet  Hardy  was  in  great  repute 
in  France.  He  wrote,  according  to  f^ontenelle,  six  hundred  plays. 
The  French  poets  after  him  applied  themselves  in  general  to  the 
correct  improvement  of  the  stage,  which  was  almost  totally  disre- 
garded by  those  of  our  own  country,  Johnson  excepted. — C. 

^The  favourite  author  of  the  elder  Corneille.  —  C. 


AN-  EPISTLE.  29 

There  Henry's  trumpets  spread  their  loud  alarms, 

And  laurell'd  Conquest  waits  her  hero's  arms. 

Here  gentler  Edward  claims  a  pitying  sigh, 

Scarce  born  to  honours,  and  so  soon  to  die  ! 

Yet  shall  thy  throne,  unhappy  infant,  bring   •  85 

No  beam  of  comfort  to  the  guilty  king  : 

The  time  shall  come^  when  Glo'ster's  heart  shall  bleed, 

In  life's  last  hours,  with  horror  of  the  deed  : 

When  dreary  visions  shall  at  last  present 

Thy  vengeful  image,  in  the  midnight  tent :  90 

Thy  hand  unseen  the  secret  death  shall  bear. 

Blunt  the  weak  sword,  and  break  th'  oppressive  spear. 

Where'er  we  turn,  by  Fancy  charm'd,  we  find 
Some  sweet  illusion  of  the  cheated  mind. 
Oft,  wild  of  wing,  she  calls  the  soul  to  rove  95 

With  humbler  nature,  in  the  rural  grove  ; 
Where  swains  contented  own  the  quiet  scene. 
And  twilight  fairies  tread  the  circled  green  : 
Brest  by  her  hand,  the  woods  and  vallies  smile, 
And  Spring  diffusive  decks  th'  enchanted  isle.  100 

O  more  than  all  in  pow'rful  genius  blest. 
Come,  take  thine  empire  o'er  the  willing  breast  ! 
Whate'er  the  wounds  this  youthful  heart  shall  feel. 
Thy  songs  support  me,  and  thy  morals  heal  ! 
There  ev'ry  thought  the  poet's  warmth  may  raise,  105 

There  native  music  dwells  in  all  the  lays. 

loi-iio.    O  blest  in  all  that  genius  gives  to  charm, 

Whose  morals  mend  us,  and  whose  passions  warm  ! 
Oft  let  my  youth  attend  thy  various  page. 
Where  rich  invention  rules  th'  unbounded  stage. 

^  Tempus  erit  Turno,  magno  cum  optaverit  emptum 
Intactum  Pallanta,  etc.  Virg.  —  C. 


30  POEMS   OF   WILLIAM  COLLINS. 

O  might  some  verse  with  happiest  skill  persuade 

Expressive  Picture  to  adopt  thine  aid, 

What  wondrous  draughts  might  rise  from  ev'ry  page, 

What  other  Raphaels  charm  a  distant  age  !  i  lo 

Methinks  ev'n  now  I  view  some  free  design, 

Where  breathing  nature  lives  in  ev'ry  line  : 

Chaste  and  subdu'd  the  modest  lights  decay. 

Steal  into  shade,  and  mildly  melt  away. 

—  And  see,  where  Anthony,^  in  tears  approv'd,  115 

Guards  the  pale  relicks  of  the  chief  he  lov'd  : 

O'er  the  cold  corse  the  warrior  seems  to  bend. 

Deep  sunk  in  grief,  and  mourns  his  murther'd  friend  ! 

Still  as  they  press,  he  calls  on  all  around, 

Lifts  the  torn  robe,  and  points  the  bleeding  wound.      120 

But  who  is  he,^  whose  brows  exalted  bear 
A  wrath  impatient,  and  a  fiercer  air  ? 
Awake  to  all  that  injur'd  worth  can  feel, 
On  his  own  Rome  he  turns  th'  avenging  steel. 

There  ev'ry  scene  the  poet's  warmth  may  raise, 
And  melting  music  find  the  softest  lays. 
O  might  the  Muse  with  equal  ease  persuade 
Expressive  Picture  to  adopt  thine  aid, 
Some  pow'rful  Raphael  should  again  appear, 
And  Arts  consenting  fix  their  empire  here.  —  I743- 

III.   Methinks  ev'n  now  I  view  some  fair  design,  —  •743- 

1 1 3- 1 1 6.   Chaste,  and  subdu'd,  the  modest  colours  lie, 
In  fair  proportion  to  th'  approving  eye. 
And  see,  where  Antony  lamenting  stands 
In  fix'd  distress,  and  spreads  his  pleading  hands  I 

—  1743- 
122-124.   A  rage  impatient,  and  a  fiercer  air? 

Ev'n  now  his  thoughts  with  eager  vengeance  doom 

The  last  sad  ruin  of  ungrateful  Rome.  —  1743- 

1  See  the  tragedy  oi  Julius  Caesar.  —  C. 

2  Coriolanus.     See  Mr.  Spence's  Dialogues  on  the  Odyssey.  —  C. 


AJV  EPISTLE.  31 

Yet  shall  not  War's  insatiate  fury  fall  125 

(So  heav'n  ordains  it)  on  the  destin'd  wall. 

See  the  fond  mother,  midst  the  plaintive  train, 

Hung  on  his  knees,  and  prostrate  on  the  plain ! 

Touch 'd  to  the  soul,  in  vain  he  strives  to  hide 

The  son's  affection,  in  the  Roman's  pride  :  13° 

O'er  all  the  man  conflicting  passions  rise. 

Rage  grasps  the  sword,  while  Pity  melts  the  eyes. 

Thus,  gen'rous  critic,  as  thy  bard  inspires. 
The  sister  Arts  shall  nurse  their  drooping  fires ; 
Each  from  his  scenes  her  stores  alternate  bring,  135 

Blend  the  fair  tints,  or  wake  the  vocal  string  : 
Those  sibyl-leaves,  the  sport  of  ev'ry  wind 
(For  poets  ever  were  a  careless  kind). 
By  thee  dispos'd,  no  farther  toil  demand. 
But,  just  to  nature,  own  thy  forming  hand.  140 

So,  spread  o'er  Greece,  th'  harmonious  whole  unknown, 
Ev'n  Homer's  numbers  charm'd  by  parts  alone. 
Their  own  Ulysses  scarce  had  wander'd  more. 
By  winds  and  waters  -^  cast  on  ev'ry  shore  : 
When,  rais'd  by  fate,  some  former  Hanmer  joined  '45 

Each  beauteous  image  of  the  boundless  mind  : 
And  bad,  like  thee,  his  Athens  ever  claim 
A  fond  alliance  with  the  poet's  name. 

125-130.   Till,  slow-advancing  o'er  the  tented  plain, 
In  sable  weeds,  appear  the  kindred-train  : 
The  frantic  mother  leads  their  wild  despair, 
Beats  her  swoln  breast,  and  rends  her  silver  hair. 
And  see,  he  yields  !  the  tears  unbidden  start, 
And  conscious  nature  claims  th'  unwilling  heart  !  — 1743. 
136.   Spread  the  fair  tints,  or  wake  the  vocal  string  :      —  i743- 
146.   Each  beauteous  image  of  the  tuneful  mind  ;  — 1743- 

1  In  the  edition  of  1744,  the  reading  is  water  ;   but  as  this  seems 
like  a  mere  typographical  error,  the  earlier  text  has  been  followed. 


ODES 

ON    SEVERAL    DESCRIPTIVE    AND    ALLEGORIC    SUBJECTS. 


UlTJV 

'EvprjCTLewri'i  dvayeicrdai. 
Ilpocrcpopos  iv  'Moicrdu  Ai(ppu)  • 
T6\fj.a  5e  Kal  d/j.(pi\a(pT]s  5y;'a,uts 

'  EcTTTOtTO.  

—  TLivdap,  OXv/jLir.  6. 


ODE   TO    PITY. 

O  THOU,  the  friend  of  man,  assign'd 
With  balmy  hands  his  wounds  to  bind, 
xAnd  charm  his  frantic  woe  : 
When  first  Distress  with  dagger  keen 
Broke  forth  to  waste  his  destin'd  scene,  5 

His  wild  unsated  foe  ! 

By  Bella's  bard,^  a  magic  name, 

By  all  the  griefs  his  thought  could  frame. 

Receive  my  humble  rite  : 
Long,  Bity,  let  the  nations  view  lo 

Thy  sky-worn  robes  of  tend'rest  blue. 

And  eyes  of  dewy  light ! 

But  wherefore  need  I  wander  wide 
To  old  Ilissus'  distant  side. 

Deserted  stream,  and  mute?  15 

Wild  Arun  ^  too  has  heard  thy  strains. 
And  Echo,  midst  my  native  plains. 

Been  sooth'd  by  Bity's  lute. 

There  first  the  wren  thy  myrtles  shed 

On  gentlest  Otway's  infant  head,  20 

To  him  thy  cell  was  shown  ; 
And  while  he  sung  the  female  heart, 
With  youth's  soft  notes  unspoil'd  by  art, 

Thy  turtles  mix'd  their  own. 

1  Euripides,  of  whom  Aristotle  pronounces,  on  a  comparison  of 
him  with  Sophocles,  that  he  was  the  greater  master  of  the  tender 
passions,  tJv  rpayiKurepos.  — C. 

2  The  river  Arun  runs  by  the  village  in  Sussex,  where  Otway  had 
his  birth.  —  C. 


36  POEMS   OF   WILLIAM  COLLINS. 

(  Come,  Pity,  come  !     By  Fancy's  aid,  25 

Ev'n  now  my  thoughts,  relenting  maid, 

Thy  temple's  pride  design  : 
Its  southern  site,  its  truth  compleat, 
Shall  raise  a  wild  enthusiast  heat 

In  all  who  view  the  shrine.  3° 

There  Picture's  toils  shall  well  relate 
How  chance,  or  hard  involving  fate, 

O'er  mortal  bliss  prevail : 
The  buskin'd  Muse  shall  near  her  stand, 
And  sighing  prompt  her  tender  hand  35 

With  each  disastrous  tale. 

There  let  me  oft,  retir'd  by  day. 
In  dreams  of  passion  melt  away, 

Allow'd  with  thee  to  dwell  : 
There  waste  the  mournful  lamp  of  night,  40 

Till,  virgin,  thou  again  delight 

To  hear  a  British  shell ! 


ODE   TO    FEAR. 

STROPHE. 

Thou  to  whom  the  world  unknown 
With  all  its  shadowy  shapes  is  shown  ; 
Who  see'st  appall'd  th'  unreal  scene. 
While  Fancy  lifts  the  veil  between  : 

Ah  Fear  !  ah  frantic  Fear  ! 

I  see,  I  see  thee  near  ! 
I  know  thy  hurried  step,  thy  haggard  eye  ! 
Like  thee  I  start,  like  thee  disorder'd  fly. 
For  lo  what  monsters  in  thy  train  appear  ! 


ODES.  37 

Danger,  whose  limbs  of  giant  mold  lo 

What  mortal  eye  can  fix'd  behold  ? 

Who  stalks  his  round,  an  hideous  form, 

Howling  amidst  the  midnight  storm, 

Or  throws  him  on  the  ridgy  steep 

Of  some  loose  hanging  rock  to  sleep  :  15 

And  with  him  thousand  phantoms  join'd, 

Who  prompt  to  deeds  accurs'd  the  mind  : 

And  those,  the  fiends  who,  mear  allied. 

O'er  Nature's  wounds  and  wrecks  preside  ; 

Whilst  Vengeance,  in  the  lurid  air,  20 

Lifts  her  red  arm,  expos'd  and  bare  : 

On  whom  that  rav'ning  brood  of  Fate,^ 

Who  lap  the  blood  of  Sorrow,  wait ; 

Who,  Fear,  this  ghastly  train  can  see. 

And  look  not  madly  wild,  like  thee  ?  25 


In  earliest  Greece  to  thee,  with  partial  choice. 
The  grief-full  Muse  addrest  her  infant  tongue  ; 

The  maids  and  matrons,  on  her  awful  voice, 
Silent  and  pale  in  wild  amazement  hung. 

Yet  he,  the  bard  ^  who  first  invok'd  thy  name,  3° 

Disdain'd  in  Marathon  its  pow'r  to  feel: 
For  not  alone  he  nurs'd  the  poet's  flame. 

But  reach'd  from  Virtue's  hand  the  patriot's  steel. 

But  who  is  he  whom  later  garlands  grace. 

Who  left  awhile  o'er  Hybla's  dews  to  rove,  35 

With  trembling  eyes  thy  dreary  steps  to  trace. 

Where  thou  and  Furies  shar'd  the  baleful  grove  ? 

^  Alluding  to  the  Kiva.%  d(p\jKTovs  of  Sophocles.     See  the  Electra.  —  C. 
2  ii^schylus.  —  C. 

4264G5 


38  POEMS   OF   WILLIAM  COLLINS. 

Wrapt  in  thy  cloudy  veil  th'  incestuous  queen  ' 
Sigh'd  the  sad  call  ^  her  son  and  husband  heard, 

When  once  alone  it  broke  the  silent  scene,  4° 

And  he,  the  wretch  of  Thebes,  no  more  appear'd. 

0  Fear,  I  know  thee  by  my  throbbing  heart: 

Thy  with'ring  pow'r  inspir'd  each  mournful  line  ; 
The'  gentle  Pity  claim  her  mingled  part, 

Yet  all  the  thunders  of  the  scene  are  thine  !  45 

ANTISTROPHE. 

Thou  who  such  weary  lengths  hast  past, 
Where  wilt  thou  rest,  mad  nymph,  at  last  ? 
Say,  wilt  thou  shroud  in  haunted  cell. 
Where  gloomy  Rape  and  Murder  dwell  ? 

Or  in  some  hollow'd  seat,  50 

'Gainst  which  the  big  waves  beat, 
Hear  drowning  seamen's  cries  in  tempests  brought  ? 
Dark  pow'r,  with  shudd'ring,  meek,  submitted  thought 
Be  mine  to  read  the  visions  old 

Which  thy  awak'ning  bards  have  told  :  55 

And,  lest  thou  meet  my  blasted  view, 
Hold  each  strange  tale  devoutly  true  ; 
Ne'er  be  I  found,  by  thee  o'eraw'd, 
In  that  thrice-hallow'd  eve  abroad 

When  ghosts,  as  cottage  maids  believe,  60 

Their  pebbled  beds  permitted  leave, 
And  goblins  haunt,  from  fire,  or  fen, 
Or  mine,  or  flood,  the  walks  of  men  ! 

1  Jocasta.  —  C. 

2  oi)5    «r   upwpei  ^otJ, 

'Hv  ixkv  cncjTnfi ;    <p6iyfj.a  5'  i^ai(pvT]s  tiv6s 
duii^tv  avrdv,  ware  Trdrras  opdla's 
2r^(Tai  (jib^i^  dfiffavras  ^^ai<f>vr]s  rpixas. 
See  the  (Edip.  Colon,  of  Sophocles.  —  C. 


ODES.  •  39 

O  thou  whose  spirit  most  possest 
The  sacred  seat  of  Shakespear's  breast,  65 

By  all  that  from  thy  prophet  broke, 
In  thy  divine  emotions  spoke, 
Hither  again  thy  fury  deal  ! 
Teach  me  but  once  like  him  to  feel,         ^v 
His  cypress  wreath  my  meed  decree,     ':'  7° 

And  I,  O  Fear,  will  dwell  with  thee ! 


V 


,-> 


ODE   TO    SIMPLICITY. 

O  THOU  by  Nature  taught 

To  breathe  her  genuine  thought. 
In  numbers  warmly  pure,  and  sweetly  strong : 

Who  first,  on  mountains  wild. 

In  Fancy,  loveliest  child,  5 

Thy  babe  or  Pleasure's,  nurs'd  the  pow'rs  of  song  ! 

Thou  who  with  hermit  heart 

Disdain'st  the  wealth  of  art. 
And  gauds,  and  pageant  weeds,  and  trailing  pall. 

But  com'st  a  decent  maid  10 

In  Attic  robe  array'd, 
O  chaste,  unboastful  nymph,  to  thee  I  call  1 

By  all  the  honey'd  store 

On  Hybla's  thymy  shore, 
By  all  her  blooms,  and  mingled  murmurs  dear,  15 

By  her  ^  whose  lovelorn  woe 

In  ev'ning  musings  slow 
Sooth'd  sweetly  sad  Electra's  poet's  ear  : 

1  The  dT/Swc,  or  nightingale,  for  which  Sophocles  seems  to  have 
entertain'd  a  peculiar  fondness.  —  C. 


40  POEMS   OF   WILLIAM  COLLINS. 

By  old  Cephisus  deep, 

Who  spread  his  wavy  sweep  20 

In  warbled  wand'rings  round  thy  green  retreat, 

On  whose  enamell'd  side 

When  holy  Freedom  died, 
No  equal  haunt  allur'd  thy  fut^ire  feet: 

O  sister  meek  of  Truth,  25 

To  my  admiring  youth 
Thy  sober  aid  and  native  charms  infuse  ! 

The  flow'rs  that  sweetest  breathe, 

Tho'  Beauty  cull'd  the  wreath, 
Still  ask  thy  hand  to  range  their  order'd  hues.  3° 

While  Rome  could  none  esteem 

But  virtue's  patriot  theme, 
You  lov'd  her  hills,  and  led  her«laureate  band  : 

But  staid  to  sing  alone 

To  one  distinguish'd  throne,  35 

And  turn'd  thy  face,  and  fled  her  alter'd  land. 

No  more,  in  hall  or  bow'r. 

The  passions  own  thy  pow'r  ; 
Love,  only  love,  her  forceless  numbers  mean  : 

For  thou  hast  left  her  shrine  ;  .  4° 

Nor  olive  more,  nor  vine, 
Shall  gain  thy  feet  to  bless  the  servile  scene. 

Tho'  taste,  tho'  genius  bless 

To  some  divine  excess, 
Faints  the  cold  work  till  thou  inspire  the  whole  ;         45 

What  each,  what  all  supply. 

May  court,  may  charm  our  eye. 
Thou,  only  thou,  canst  raise  the  meeting  soul ! 


ODES.  41 

Of  these  let  others  ask, 

To  aid  some  mighty  task  ;  5° 

I  only  seek  to  find  thy  temp'rate  vale  :      >'■ 

Where  oft  my  reed  might  sound 

To  maids  and  shepherds  round, 
And  all  thy  sons,  O  Nature,  learn  my  tale. 


ODE    ON   THE    POETICAL   CHARACTER. 

STROPHE. 

As  once,  if  not  with  light  regard 

I  read  aright  that  gifted  bard 

(Him  whose  school  above  the  rest 

His  loveliest  Elfin  Queen  has  blest), 

One,  only  one,  unrivall'd  f air  ^  S 

Might  hope  the  magic  girdle  wear. 

At  solemn  turney  hung  on  high. 

The  wish  of  each  love-darting  eye  ; 

Lo  !  to  each  other  nymph  in  turn  applied. 

As  if,  in  air  unseen,  some  hov'ring  hand,*'  lo 

Some  chaste  and  angel  friend  to  virgin  fame, 

With  whisper'd  spell  had  burst  the  starting  band, 
It  left  unblest  her  loath'd,  dishonour'd  sidej 

Happier  hopeless  fair,  if  never 

Her  baffled  hand  with  vain  endeavour  15 

_Had  touch'd  that  fatal  zone  to  her  denied  ! 
/   Young  Fancy  thus,  to  me  divinest  name, 

To  whom,  prepar'd  and  bath'd  in  heav'n. 

The  cest  of  amplest  pow'r  is  giv'n. 

To  few  the  godlike  gift  assigns,  20 

To  gird  their  blest,  prophetic  loins, 
;    And  gaze  her  visions  wild,  and  feel  unmix'd  her  flame  ! 

1  Elorimel.     See  Spenser,  Leg.  4th.  —  C. 


40 


POEMS   OF   WILLIAM  COLLINS. 


EPODE. 

The  band,  as  fairy  legends  say, 

Was  wove  on  that  creating  day 

When  He  who  call'd  with  thought  to  birth  25 

Yon  tented  sky,  this  laughing  earth. 

And  drest  with  springs  and  forests  tall, 

And  pour'd  the  main  engirting  all, 

Long  by  the  lov'd  enthusiast  woo'd, 

Himself  in  some  diyiner  mood,  3° 

Retiring,  sate  with  her  alone. 

And  plac'd  her  on  his  sapphire  throne, 

The  whiles,  the  vaulted  shrine  around. 

Seraphic  wires  were  heard  to  sound. 

Now  sublimest.triuniph  swellrhg,  35 

Now  oh  love  and  mercy  dwelling ; 

And  she,  from  out  the  veiling  cloud, 

Br^ath'd  her  rtagic  notes  aloud  : 

And  thou,  thou  rich-hair'd  Youth  of  Morn, 

And  all  thy  subject  life,  was  born !  40 

The  dang'rous  Passions  kept  aloof. 

Far  from  the  sainted  growing  woof  : 

But.  near  it  sate  ecstatic  Wonder, 

Llst'nrifig  the  deep  applauding  thunder  ;  . 

And  Truth,  in  sunny  vest  array'd,  45 

By  whose  the  tarsel's  eyes  were  made; 

All  the  shad'wy  tribes  of  mind 

In  braided  dance  their  murmurs  join'd. 

And  all  the  bright  uncounted  Pow'rs 

Who  feed  on  heav'n's  ambrosial  flow'rs.  5° 

Where  is  the  bard  whose  soul  can  now 

Its  high  presuming  hopes  avow  ? 

Where  he  who  thinks,  with  rapture  blind, 

This  hallow'd  work  for  him  design'd  ? 


ODES.  43 

ANTISTROPHE. 

High  on  some  cliff,  to  heav'n  up-pil'd,  55 

Of  rude  access,  of  prospect  wild. 

Where,  tangled  round  the  jealous  steep, 

Strange  shades  o'er-brow  the  valleys  deep, 

And  holy  genii  guard  the  rock. 

Its  glooms  embrown,  its  springs  unlock,  60 

While  on  its  rich  ambitious  head 

An  Eden,  like  his  own,  lies  spread, 

I  view  that  oak,  the  fancied  glades  among. 

By  which  as  Milton  lay,  his  ev'ning  ear. 

From  many  a  cloud  that  dropp'd  ethereal  dew,  65 

Nigh  spher'd  in  heav'n  its  native  strains  could  hear, 

On  which  that  ancient  trump  he  reach'd  was  hung  : 

Thither  oft,  his  glory  greeting, 

From  Waller's  myrtle  shades  retreating, 
With  many  a  vow  from  Hope's  aspiring  tongue,  70 

My  trembling^'feet  his  guiding  steps  pursue ; 

In  vain  —  such  bliss  to  one  alone 

Of  all  the  sons  of  soul  was  known, 
v^nd  Heav'n  and  Fancy,  kindred  pow'rs, 

Have  now  o'erturn'd  th'  inspiring  bow'rs,  75 

Or  curtain'd  close  such  scene  from  ev'ry  future  view. 


ODE 
WRITTEN    IN    THE    BEGINNING    OF    THE    YEAR    1 746. 

How  sleep  the  brave  who  sink  to  rest 
By  all  their  country's  wishes  blest! 
W^hen  Spring,  with  dewy -fingers  cold, 
Returns  to  deck  their  hallow'd  mold, 


44  POEMS   OF   WILLIAM  COLLINS. 

She  there  shall  dress  a  sweeter  sod 
Than  Fancy's  feet  have  ever  trod. 

By  fairy  hands  their  knell  is  rung, 
By  forms  unseen  their  dirge  is  sung ; 
There  Honour  comes,  a  pilgrim  grey, 
To  bless  the  turf  that  wraps  their  clay ; 
And  Freedom  shall  awhile  repair, 
To  dwell  a  weeping  hermit  there  1 


ODE   TO    MERCY. 

STROPHE. 

O  THOU  who  sitt'st  a  smiling  bride 

By  Valour's  arm'd  and  awful  sid^,' 
Gentlest  of  sky-born  forms,  and  best  ador'd : 

Who  oft  with  songs,  divine  to  heai^ 

Winn'st  from  his  fatal  grasp  the  spear,  5 

And  hid'st  in  wreaths  of  flow'rs  his  bloodless  sword  ! 
^   Thou  who,  amidst  the  deathful  field. 

By  godlike  chiefs  alone  beheld. 
Oft  with  thy  bosom  bare  art  found, 
Pleading  for  him  the  youth  who  sinks  to  ground  :  lo 

See,  Mercy,  see  !  with  pure  and  loaded  hands. 

Before  thy  shrine  my  country's  genius  stands. 
And  decks  thy  altar  still,  tho'  pierc'd  with  many  a  wound  ! 

ANTISTROPHE. 

When  he  whom  ev'n  our  joys  provoke. 

The  Fiend  of  Nature,  join'd  his  yoke,  iS 

And  rush'd  in  wrath  to  make  our  isle  his  prey, 

Thy  form,  from  out  thy  sweet  abode, 

(Xertook  him  on  his  blasted  road. 
And  stopp'd  his  wheels,  and  look'd  his  rage  away. 


ODES.  45 

I  see  recoil  his  sable  steeds,  20 

That  bore  him  swift  to  salvage  deeds  ; 
Thy  tender  melting  eyes  they  own. 
O  maid,  for  all  thy  love  to  Britain  shown, 
I-'  Where  Justice  bars  her  iron  tow'r,  _>.■'  ^'^ 

^To  thee  we  build  a  roseate  bow'r.  25 

Thou,  thou  shalt  rule  our  queen,  and  share  our  monarch's 
throne  ! 


ODE   TO    LIBERTY. 
STROPHE. 

Who  shall  awake  the  Spartan  fife, 

And  call  in  solemn  sounds  to  life 
The  youths  whose  locks  divinely  spreading, 

Like  vernal  hyacinths  in  sullen  hue, 
At  once  the  breath  of  fear  and  virtue  shedding, 

Applauding  Freedom  lov'd  of  old  to  view  ? 
What  new  Alcaeus,^  fancy-blest. 
Shall  sing  the  sword,  in  myrtles  drest. 

At  Wisdom's  shrine  awhile  its  flame  concealing 
(What  place  so  fit  to  seal  a  deed  renowned  ?), 

Till  she  her  brightest  lightnings  round  revealing, 
It  leap'd  in  glory  forth,  and  dealt  her  prompted  wound? 

^  Alluding  to  that  beautiful  fragment  of  Alcseus  : 

E;*  fivpTov  K\adl  rb  ^icpos  (popriaci:, 

Clcnrep  'Apfiddios  k     ApiffToyelrcov, 
^iXrad'  'Apfj.68(.\  ovirw  redvriKas, 
"Nriffots  5    iv  fiaKapwv  ai  cpaaiv  eivai  ■ 

E;'  fxipTov  KXadl  rb  ^i(pos  (poprjcnc, 

ilairep  'App-bSios  k     Api(rToyeiT(j}v, 

Or    A6r]vair]s  iv  dvcriais, 
'AvSpa  r^pavvov'  iTTTrapxop  eKaiviTrjv. 
'Ael  crcpl^v  K\ios  fcrcrerai  Kar   alau, 
^iXraO'  'App,6di\  k  ' ApiaToyeiTuv.  —  C. 


46  POEMS   OF   WILLIAM  COLLINS. 

O  goddess,  in  that  feeling  hour, 
When  most  its  sounds  would  court  thy  ears, 

Let  not  my  shell's  misguided  pow'r  15 

E'er  draw  thy  sad,  thy  mindful  tears. ^ 
No,  Freedom,  no,  I  will  not  tell 
How  Rome,  before  thy  weeping  face, 
With  heaviest  sound,  a  giant  statue,  fell, 
Push'd  by  a  wild  and  artless  race  20 

From  off  its  wide  ambitious  base. 
When  Time  his  Northern  sons  of  spoil  awoke. 

And  all  the  blended  work  of  strength  and  grace, 

With  many  a  rude  repeated  stroke, 
And  many  a  barb'rous  yell,  to  thousand  fragments  broke.    25 


EPODE. 

Yet  ev'n  where'er  the  least  appear'd, 

Th'  admiring  world  thy  hand  rever'd  ; 

Still,  midst  the  scatter'd  states  around. 

Some  remnants  of  her  strength  were  found  ; 

They  saw,  by  what  escap'd  the  storm,  3° 

How  wondrous  rose  her  perfect  form. 

How  in  the  great,  the  labour'd  whole. 

Each  mighty  master  pour'd  his  soul  ! 

For  sunny  Florence,  seat  of  Art, 

Beneath  her  vines  preserv'd  a  part,  35 

Till  they  ^  whom  Science  lov'd  to  name 

(O  who  could  fear  it  ?)  quench'd  her  flame. 

And  lo,  an  humbler  relick  laid 

In  jealous  Pisa's  olive  shade  ! 

^  M77  111)  ravTa  \^ywfj.€s,  a  SdKpvoi>  ^7076  Ar)oT. 

—  Callimach.,  "T/jlvos  eh  A-/iiJ.r}Tpa.  — C. 
2  The  family  of  the  Medici.  —  C. 


ODES.  47 

See,  small  Marino  '  joins  the  theme,  4° 

Tho'  least,  not  last  in  thy  esteem. 

Strike,  louder  strike  th'  ennobling  strings 

To  those  ^  whose  merchant  sons  were  kings  ; 

To  him  ^  who,  deck'd  with  pearly  pride. 

In  Adria  weds  his  green-hair'd  bride.  45 

Hail,  port  of  glory,  wealth,  and  pleasure  ! 

Ne'er  let  me  change  this  Lydian  measure. 

Nor  e'er  her  former  pride  relate 

To  sad  Liguria's  ■*  bleeding  state. 

Ah  no  !  more  pleas'd  thy  haunts  I  seek,  50 

On  wild  Helvetia's  ^  mountains  bleak 

(Where,  when  the  favor'd  of  thy  choice, 

The  daring  archer,  heard  thy  voice. 

Forth  from  his  eyrie  rous'd  in  dread. 

The  rav'ning  eagle  northward  fled)  :  55 

Or  dwell  in  willow'd  meads  more  near. 

With  those  ^  to  whom  thy  stork  is  dear  ; 

Those  whom  the  rod  of  Alva  bruis'd, 

W'hose  crown  a  British  queen ''  refus'd  ! 

The  magic  works,  thou  feel'st  the  strains,  60 

One  holier  name  alone  remains  ; 

The  perfect  spell  shall  then  avail  : 

Hail  nymph,  ador'd  by  Britain,  hail ! 

1  The  little  republic  of  San  Marino.  —  C 

2  The  Venetians.  —  C. 

3  The  Doge  of  Venice.  —  C. 

4  Genoa.  — C. 

5  Switzerland.  —  C. 

^  The  Dutch,  amongst  whom  there  are  very  severe  penalties  for 
those  who  are  convicted  of  killing  this  bird.  They  are  kept  tame 
in  almost  all  their  towns,  and  particularly  at  the  Hague,  of  the  arms 
of  which  they  make  a  part.  The  common  people  of  Holland  are 
said  to  entertain  a  superstitious  sentiment,  that  if  the  whole  species 
of  them  should  become  extinct,  they  should  lose  their  liberties.  —  C. 

"  Queen  Elizabeth.  —  C. 


48  POEMS   OF   WILLIAM  COLLINS. 


ANTISTROPHE. 

Beyond  the  measure  vast  of  thought, 

The  works  the  wizard  Time  has  wrought  !  6$ 

The  Gaul,  't  is  held  of  antique  story. 
Saw  Britain  link'd  to  his  now  adverse  strand  ; ' 
No  sea  between,  nor  cliff  sublime  and  hoary. 
He  pass'd  with  unwet  feet  thro'  all  our  land. 

To  the  blown  Baltic  then,  they  say,  70 

The  wild  waves  found  another  way, 
Where  Orcas  howls,  his  wolfish  mountains  rounding  ; 

Till  all  the  banded  West  at  once  'gan  rise, 
A  wide  wild  storm  ev'n  Nature's  self  confounding, 

With'ring  her  giant  sons  with  strange  uncouth  surprise.  75 
This  pillar'd  earth  so  firm  and  wide. 
By  winds  and  inward  labors  torn. 
In  thunders  dread  was  push'd  aside. 

And  down  the  should'ring  billows  borne. 
And  see,  like  gems,  her  laughing  train,  80 

The  little  isles  on  ev'ry  side  ! 
Mona,  once  hid  from  those  who  search  the  main,^ 

^  This  tradition  is  mentioned  by  several  of  our  old  historians. 
Some  naturalists,  too,  have  endeavor'd  to  support  the  probability  of 
the  fact,  by  arguments  drawn  from  the  correspondent  disposition  of 
the  two  opposite  coasts.  I  don't  remember  that  any  poetical  use 
has  been  hitherto  made  of  it.  —  C. 

2  There  is  a  tradition  in  the  Isle  of  Man,  that  a  mermaid,  becoming 
enamour'd  of  a  young  man  of  extraordinary  beauty,  took  an  oppor- 
tunity of  meeting  him  one  day  as  he  walk'd  on  the  shore,  and 
open'd  her  passion  to  him,  but  was  receiv'd  with  a  coldness,  occa- 
sion'd  by  his  horror  and  surprise  at  her  appearance.  This,  however, 
was  so  misconstru'd  by  the  sea-lady  that,  in  revenge  for  his  treat- 
ment of  her,  she  punish'd  the  whole  island  by  covering  it  with  a 
mist,  so  that  all  who  attempted  to  carry  on  any  commerce  with  it 
either  never  arriv'd  at  it,  but  wander'd  up  and  down  the  sea,  or 
were  on  a  sudden  wreck'd  upon  its  cliffs.  —  C. 


ODES.  49 

Where  thousand  elfin  shapes  abide, 
And  Wight,  who  checks  the  west'ring  tide  ; 

For  thee  consenting  Heav'n  has  each  bestowed,  85 

A  fair  attendant  on  her  sov'reign  pride. 

To  thee  this  blest  divorce  she  ow'd. 
For  thou  hast  made  her  vales  thy  lov'd,  thy  last  abode ! 

SECOND    EPODE. 

Then  too,  't  is  said,  an  hoary  pile, 

Midst  the  green  navel  of  our  isle,  90 

Thy  shrine  in  some  religious  wood, 

O  soul-enforcing  goddess,  stood  ! 

There  oft  the  painted  native's  feet 

Were  wont  thy  form  celestial  meet  : 

Tho'  now  with  hopeless  toil  we  trace  95 

Time's  backward  rolls  to  find  its  place  ; 

Whether  the  fiery-tressed  Dane 

Or  Roman's  self  o'erturn'd  the  fane. 

Or  in  what  heaven-left  age  it  fell, 

'T  were  hard  for  modern  song  to  tell.  100 

Yet  still,  if  truth  those  beams  infuse 

Which  guide  at  once  and  charm  the  Muse, 

Beyond  yon  braided  clouds  that  lie, 

Paving  the  light-embroider'd  sky, 

Amidst  the  bright  pavilion'd  plains,  105 

The  beauteous  model  still  remains. 

There,  happier  than  in  islands  blest, 

Or  bow'rs  by  Spring  or  Hebe  drest. 

The  chiefs  who  fill  our  Albion's  story, 

In  warlike  weeds,  retir'd  in  glory,  no 

Hear  their  consorted  druids  sing 

Their  triumphs  to  th'  immortal  string. 

How  may  the  poet  now  unfold 
What  never  tongue  or  numbers  told  ? 


50  POEMS   OF   WILLIAM  COLLINS. 

How  learn,  delighted  and  amaz'd,  115 

What  hands  unknown  that  fabric  rais'd  ? 

Ev'n  now,  before  his  favor'd  eyes, 

In  Gothic  pride  it  seems  to  rise  ! 

Yet  Grfficia's  graceful  orders  join, 

Majestic  thro'  the  mix'd  design;  120 

The  secret  builder  knew  to  chuse 

Each  sphere-found  gem  of  richest  hues  : 

VVhate'er  heav'n's  purer  mold  contains. 

When  nearer  suns  emblaze  its  veins  ; 

There  on  the  walls  the  patriot's  sight  125 

May  ever  hang  with  fresh  delight. 

And,  grav'd  with  some  prophetic  rage. 

Read  Albion's  fame  thro'  ev'ry  age. 

Ye  forms  divine,  ye  laureate  band,. 
That  near  her  inmost  altar  stand,  130 

Now  sooth  her  to  her  blissful  train 
Blithe  Concord's  social  form  to  gain  : 
Concord,  whose  myrtle  wand  can  steep 
Ev'n  Anger's  bloodshot  eyes  in  sleep  : 
Before  whose  breathing  bosom's  balm  135 

Rage  drops  his  steel,  and  storms  grow  calm. 
Her  let  our  sires  and  matrons  hoar 
Welcome  to  Britain's  ravag'd  shore ; 
Our  youths,  enamour'd  of  the  fair. 
Play  with  the  tangles  of  her  hair  ;  140 

Till,  in  one  loud  applauding  sound, 
The  nations  shout  to  her  around, 
"O  how  supremely  art  thou  blest  ! 
Thou,  lady,  thou  shalt  rule  the  West !  " 


ODES.  51 


ODE   TO   A    LADY 

ON    THE    DEATH    OF    COLONEL    ROSS    IN    THE 
ACTION    OF    FONTENOY. 

While,  lost  to  all  his  former  mirth, 
Britannia's  genius  bends  to  earth. 

And  mourns  the  fatal  day  : 
While,  stain'd  with  blood,  he  strives  to  tear 
Unseemly  from  his  sea-green  hair  5 

The  wreaths  of  chearful  May  : 

The  thoughts  which  musing  Pity  pays. 
And  fond  Remembrance  loves  to  raise, 

Your  faithful  hours  attend  : 
Still  Fancy,  to  herself  unkind,  lo 

Awakes  to  grief  the  soften 'd  mind, 

And  points  the  bleeding  friend. 

By  rapid  Scheld's  descending  wave 

His  country's  vows  shall  bless  the  grave, 

Where'er  the  youth  is  laid  :  15 

That  sacred  spot  the  village  hind 
With  ev'ry  sweetest  turf  shall  bind. 

And  Peace  protect  the  shade. 

O'er  him  whose  doom  thy  virtues  grieve 

Aerial  forms  shall  sit  at  eve  20 

And  bend  the  pensive  head  ! 
And,  fall'n  to  save  his  injur'd  land. 
Imperial  Honour's  awful  hand 

Shall  point  his  lonely  bed  ! 

4.    While,  sunk  in  grief,  he  strives  to  tear  — MS. 

19-24.    Ev'p  -'^if.i]  of  his  doom, 

^unts  his  tomb, 
'  '^rown'd : 


/ 


52  POEMS   OF   WILLIAM  COLLINS. 

The  warlike  dead  of  ev'ry  age,  25 

Who  fill  the  fair  recording  page,  ^ 

Shall  leave  their  sainted  rest  : 
And,  half-reclining  on  his  spear, 
Each  wond'ring  chief  by  turns  appear, 

To  hail  the  blooming  guest.  30 

Old  Edward's  sons,  unknown  to  yield. 
Shall  crowd  from  Cressy's  laurell'd  field, 

And  gaze  with  fix'd  delight  : 
Again  for  Britain's  wrongs  they  feel,  \ 

Again  they  snatch  the  gleamy  steel,  35 

And  wish  th'  avenging  fight.^ 

Whilst  Freedom's  form  beside  her  roves 
Majestic  thro'  the  twilight  groves, 

And  calls  her  heroes  round.  —  1746- 

Blest  youth,  regardful  of  thy  doom, 
Aerial  hands  shall  build  thy  tomb, 

With  shadowy  trophies  crown 'd  : 
Whilst  Honour  bathed  in  tears  shall  rove 
To  sigh  thy  name  thro'  ev'ry  grove, 

And  call  his  heroes  round.  .*  —  1747- 

31.    Old  Edward's  sons,  untaught  to  yield,      .  — MS. 

1  In  the  text  of  1747,  th&.^ following  sfanzas  were  inserted  after 

line  36 :  4   .  .  ' 

But  lo  where,  suiiV  in  deep  despair, 

Her  garments  torn\her  bosom  bare, 

Impatient  Freedom  lies  ! 
Her  matted  tresses  m^ly  spread. 
To  ev'ry  sod  which  wra|)s  the  dead  \ 

She  turns  her  joyless  e^s. 


Ne'er  shall  she  leave  that  lowly  ground, 
Till  notes  of  triumph  bursting  round 

Proclaim  her  reign  restor'd  : 
Till  William  seek  the  sad  ret>-'>''  '^ 

And,  bleeding  at  her  s' 

Present  the  sated 


\ 


i» 


ODES. 


53 


If,  weak  to  sooth  so  soft  an' heart, 
These  pictur'd  glories  nought  impart 

To  dry  thy  constant  tear  : 
If  yet,  in  Sorrow's  distant  eye, 
Expos'd  and  pale  thou  see'st  him  lie, 

Wild  War  insulting  near  : 

W'here'er  from  time  thou  court'st  relief, 
The  Muse  shall  still,  with  social  grief, 

Her  gentlest  promise  keep  : 
Ev'n  humble  Harting's  cottag'd  vale 
Shall  learn  the  sad-repeated  tale, 

And  bid  her. shepherds  weep. 


40 


45 


ODE    TO    EVEXIXG. 

If  ought  of  oaten  st^p-yyr  pastoral  sjipg, 

May  hppe,  chaste  Eve,  to  sooth  thy  ip^dest  ear, 

Like  thy  ^wn  s^jle^mn^spfi^g^^jai 

Thy  springs  and  .dying  gales,  .,,- 

O  nyrnpn  ic3?rv'd   .rh'}]o  -ow  tht^  brigM'-'iair'd  son 
Sfe  in  yon  western  Ic'  t.  wiwse' cto.-jdy  skirts, 
With  brede  ethereal  wove, 
O'erhang  his  wavy  beL^.  •  ,^  ^^^  ^1^,^^ 

Now  air  i^  hush'd,  save  where  the  weak-ey'^  ^^^ 

With  5h^t  sh^l  shneW^flits  by  on  leather  n,;Wi|g,..  .•,-    * 
Or  where  the  beetle  winds  .«  ■;-'r,:^.-.    •    V 

His  small  but  sullen  horn, 

37.  If,  drawn  by  all  a  lover's  art,  -> 

46.  Ev'n  humble  Harting's  cottage  vale 

47.  Shall  learn  the  sad  repeated  tale,  < 
2,  3.  May  hope,  O  pensive  Eve,  to  sooth  thinei|b.'^-;^if      :.     ^,  ^ 

Like  thy  own  brawling  springs,  ^  "'^    /  .'^  •  aT^^' 


f 


54  POEMS   OF   WILLIAM  COLLINS. 

As  oft  )ie  rises  'midst' the  twilight  path, 
Against  the  pilgrim  borne  in  heedless  hum  : 
^  Now  teach  me,  maid  compos'd,  iS 

To  breathe  some  soften'd  strain. 

Whose  numbers,  stealing  thro'  thy  dark'ning  vale, 
May  not  uKseeral*^  with  \t%  sull,ness  suit, 

\As,  musing  slow,  I.hail 

Thy  genial  lov'd  return  !  "^  20 

For  when  thy  fqldfing-star  arising  shews 
His  p(aiy(circiei;,  at  his  warninglamp 

The  fragrant  Hours,  and  elves 

Who  slept  in  flow'rs  the  day,  ' 

And  many  a  nym^h  who  wreaths  her  brows  with  sedge,      25 
And  sheds  the  fresh'ning  dew,  and,  lovelier  still,^^    (2^^^-^^ 

-'The  pensive  (JHeasures  sweet,  ^ y.'O^^'"'*- 

Prepare  thy  shadowy  car. 


30 


JTiienJe^d.^calm  yot'ress,  where  sojp,e  sbeety  lake 
^-y-''^  ^^^Ail^i^lP^^  lieatt^  or  si^^  tirrfe-Hallow'd  pUe 
L^''/^!j^0^^ig!>dIaT^^sifiy^  .^^  x 

L^, '  '  ^ectHtsji^t  coo:,  ^eam.  ^^^  \  ^  .* 

^^*""*  ■-  •/ ■  ^    t  /  /  f  *"*  '^     ' 

But  wl^5iiiBfcti\.^'st'^ing  winds,/©^  '^r»'^"*?;,'-.''ir.., 
^  orbid  my  wiflj^  feet,  be  mine  the  hiit 
That  h'or*  tho  mountain's -side 
'  Views  V  ilds,  .md  swelling  floods,  *  v 

24.    Who  slept  ■  1  buds  the  day,  —  I747- 

29-32.   Tben  let  mt  'ove  some  wild  and  heathy  scene, 
-    '1:    -    -'  somt  luin  -"idst  its  dreary  dells, 
=!e  walls  more  awful  nod 
V  religious  gleams.  —  1747- 

33'^"'  ;ii  lllii'^t'ring  winds,  or  driving  rain, 

ijiEreveLt  my  willing  feet,  be  mine  the  hut  — 1747. 


ODES.  55 

And  hamlets  brown,  and  dim-discover'd  spires, 
And  heajs  their  simple  bell,  and  marks  o'er  all 

Thy  dewy  fingers  draw 

The  gradual  dusky  veil.  4° 

While  Spring  shall  pour  his  show'rs,  as  oft  he  wont, 
And  bathe  thy  breathing  tresses,  meekest  Eve ; 

While  Summer  loves  to  sport 

Beneath  thy  ling'ring  light ; 

While  sallow  Autumn  fills  thy  lap  with  leaves ;  45 

Or  Winter,  yelling  thro'  the  troublous  air. 

Affrights  thy  shrinking  train, 

And  rudely  rends  thy  robes ; 

So  long,  sure-found  beneath,  the  sylvan  shed, 

Shall  Fancy,  Fi'ieudship,  Science,  rose-lipp'd  Health,       50 

Thy  gentlest  influence  own. 

And  hymn  thy  fav'rite  name  ! 


ODE   TO    PEACE. 

O  THOU  who  bad'st  thy  turtles  bear 
Swift  from  his  grasp  thy  golden  hair, 

And  sought'st  thy  native  skies  : 
When  War,  by  vultures  drawn  from  far, 
To  Britain  bent  his  iron  car. 

And  bad  his  storm  arise  ! 

Tir'd  of  his  rude  tyrannic  sway. 
Our  youth  shall  fix  some  festive  day, 
His  sullen  shrines  to  burn : 

49-52.    So  long,/-egardful  of  thy  quiet  rule, 

Shall  Fancy,  Friendship,  Science,  smiling  Peace, 
Thy  gentlest  influence  own, 

And  love  thy  fav'rite  uame  !  —  i747' 

49.    So  long,  sure-found  beneath  thy  sylvan  shed,  — ^1753- 


56  POEMS  OF   WILLIAM  COLLINS. 

But  thou  who  hear'st  the  turning  spheres,  lo 

What  sounds  may  charm  thy  partial  ears, 
And  gain  thy  blesf  return  ! 

O  Peace,  thy  injur'd  robes  up-bind  1 
O  rise,  and  leave  not  one  behind 

Of  all  thy  beamy  train  !  •  15 

The  British  lion,  goddess  sweet, 
Lies  stretch'd  on  earth  to  kiss  thy  feet. 

And  own  thy  holier  reign. 

Let  others  court  thy  transient  smile. 

But  come  to  grace  thy  western  isle,  20 

By  warlike  Honour  led  ! 
And,  while  around  her  ports  rejoice, 
While  all  her  sons  adore  thy  choice. 

With  him  for  ever  wed  ! 


THE   MANNERS.     AN   ODE. 

Farewell,  for  clearer  ken  design'd, 
The  dim-discover'd  tracts  of  Mind : 
Truths  which,  from  Action's  paths  retir'd, 
My  silent  search  in  vain  requir'd  ! 
No  more  my  sail  that  deep  explores, 
No  more  I  search  those  magic  shores, 
What  regions  part  the  world  of  Soul, 
Or  whence  !hy  streams,  Opinion,  roll  : 
If  e'er  I  round  such  fairy  field. 
Some  pow'r  impart  the  spear  and  shield 
At  which  the  wizard  Passions  fly. 
By  which  the  giant  Follies  die ! 

Farewell  the  Porch,  whose  roof  is  seen 
Arch'd  with  th'  enliv'ning  olive's  green  : 


ODES.  57 

Where  Scieoce,  prank'd  in  tissu'd  vest,  15 

By  Jleason,  Pride,  and  Fancy  drest, 
Comes  like  a  bride  so  trim  array'd. 
To  wed  with  Doubt  in  Plato's  shade ! 

Youth  of  the  quick  uncheated  sight. 
Thy  walks,  Observance,  more  invite  !  20 

O  thou  who  lov'st  that  ampler  range 
Where  Life's  wide  prospects  round  thee  change, 
And,  with  her  mingling  sons  ally'd, 
Throw'st  the  prattling  page  aside, 
To  me  in  converse  sweet  impart  25 

To  read  in  man  the  native  heart, 
To  learn,  where  Science  sure  is  found. 
From  Nature  as  she  lives  around, 
And,  gazing  oft  her  mirror  true, 

By  turns  each  shifting  image  view  !  3° 

Till  meddling  Art's  officious  lore 
.Reverse  the  lessons  taught  before. 
Alluring  from  a  safer  rule 
To  dream  in  her  enchanted  school, 
Thou,  Heav'n,  whate'er  of  great  we  boast,  35 

Hast  blest  this  social  Science  most. 

Retiring  hence  to  thoughtful  cell. 
As  Fancy  breathes  her  potent  spell, 
Not  vain  she  finds  the  charmful  task  : 
In  pageant  quaint,  in  motley  mask,  40 

Behold,  before  her  musing  eyes, 
The  countless  Manners  round  her  rise  ; 
While,  ever  varying  as  they  pass, 
To  some  Contempt  applies  her  glass  : 
With  these  the  white-rob'd  maids  combine  45 

And  those  the  laughing  satyrs  join  ! 
But  who  is  he  whom  now  she  views, 
In  robe  of  wild  contending  hues  ? 


58  POEMS   OF   WILLIAM  COLLINS. 

Thou  by  the  Passions  nurs'd,  I  greet 

The  comic  sock  that  binds  thy  feet !  50 

O  Humour,  thou  whose  name  is  known 

To  Britain'^  favor'd  isle  alone, 

Me  too  amidst  thy  band  admit. 

There  where  the  young-ey'd  healthful  Wit 

(Whose  jewels  in  his  crisped  hair  55 

Are  plac'd  each  other's  beams  to  share, 

Whom  no  delights  from  thee  divide) 

In  laughter  loos'd  attends  thy  side  ! 

By  old  Miletus,^  who  so  long 
Has  ceas'd  his  love-inwoven  song :  60 

By  all  you  taught  the  Tuscan  maids. 
In  chang'd  Italia's  modern  shades  : 
By  him  -  whose  knight's  distinguish'd  name 
Refin'd  a  nation's  lust  of  fame  ; 

Whose  tales  ev'n  now,  with  echoes  sweet,  65 

Castilia's  Moorish  hills  repeat  : 
Or  him  ^  whom  Seine's  blue  nymphs  deplore, 
In  watchet  weeds,  on  Gallia's  shore, 
Who  drew  the  sad  Sicilian  maid, 
By  virtues  in  her  sire  betray'd  :  7° 

O  Nature  boon,  from  whom  proceed 
Each  forceful  thought,  each  prompted  deed. 
If  but  from  thee  I  hope  to  feel. 
On  all  my  heart  imprint  thy  seal! 
Let  some  retreating  cynic  find  75 

Those  oft-turn'd  scrolls  I  leave  behind  : 
The  Sports  and  I  this  hour  agree 
To  rove  thy  scene-full  world  with  thee  ! 

1  Alluding  to  the  Milesian  Talcs,  some  of  the  earliest  romances. — C. 

2  Cervantes. —  C. 

^  Monsieur  Le  Sage,  author  of  the  incomparable  Ach'entiires  of 
"  '  "'  ^mitillane,  who  died  in  Paris  in  the  year  1745.  —  C. 


ODES.  59 


THE    PASSIONS. 

AN    ODE    FOR    MUSIC. 

When  Music,  heav'nly  maid,  was  young, 

While  yet  in  early  Greece  she  sung, 

The  Passions  oft,  to  hear  her  shell, 

Throng'd  around  her  magic  cell. 

Exulting,  trembling,  raging,  fainting,  5 

Possest  beyond  the  Muse's  painting; 

By  turns  they  felt  the  glowing  mind 

Disturb'd,  delighted,  rais'd,  refin'd: 

Till  once,  't  is  said,  when  all  were  fir'd, 

Fill'd  with  fury,  rapt,  inspir'd,  lo 

From  the  supporting  myrtles  round 

They  snatch'd  her  instruments  of  sound; 

And  as  they  oft  had  heard  apart 

Sweet  lessons  of  her  forceful  art. 

Each,  for  madness  rul'd  the  hour,  15 

Would  prove  his  own  expressive  pow'r. 

First  Fear  his  hand,  its  skill  to  try. 

Amid  the  chords  bewilder'd  laid, 
And  back  recoil'd,  he  knew  not  why, 

Ev'n  at  the  sound  himself  had  made.  20 

Next  Anger  rush'd  ;  his  eyes,  on  lire, 

In  lightnings  own'd  his  secret  stings ; 
In  one  rude  clash  he  struck  the  lyre. 

And  swept  with  hurried  hand  the  strings. 

With  woful  measures  wan  Despair  25 

Low  sullen  sounds  his  grief  beguil'd  ; 
A  solemn,  strange,  and  mingled  air  ; 

'Twas  sad  by  fits,  by  starts  'twas  wild. 


60  POEMS   OF   WILLIAM  COLLINS. 

But  thou,  O  Hope,  with  eyes  so  fair, 

What  was  thy  delightful  measur^?  30 

Still  it  whisper'd  promis'd  pleasure. 

And  bad  the  lovely  scenes  at  distance  hail  ! 
Still  would  her  touch  the  strain  prolong, 

And  from  the  rocks,  the  woods,  the  vale, 
She  call'd  on  Echo  still  thro'  all  the  song  ;  35 

And  where  her  sweetest  theme  she  chose, 

A  soft  responsive  voice  was  heard  at  ev'ry  close. 
And  Hope  enchanted  smil'd,  and  wav'd  her  golden 
hair. 

And  longer  had  she  sung,  —  but  with  a  frown 

Revenge  impatient  rose  ;  40 

He  threw  his  blood-stain'd  sword  in  thunder  down 

And  with  a  with'ring  look 

The  war-denouncing  trumpet  toolt. 

And  blew  a  blast  so  loud  and  dread. 

Were  ne'er  prophetic  sounds  so  £uH  of  were.  45 

And  ever  and  anon  he  beat. 

The  doubling-drum  with  furious  heat  ; 

And  tho'  sometimes,  each  dreary  pau^e  between. 

Dejected  Pity,  at  his  side. 

Her  soul-subduing  voice  apply'd,  5° 

Yet  still  he  kept  his  wild  unalter'd  mien. 

While  each  strain'd  ball  of  sight  seem'd  -bursting 

from  his  head. 

'     ""-        '..-.' 
Thy  numbers.  Jealousy,  to  nought  were  fix'd. 

Sad  proof  of  thy  distressful  state  ; 

Of  diff'ring  themes  the  veering  song  was  mix'd,  "^       55 

And  now  it  courted  Love,  now  raving  call'd  on 

Hate. 

With  eyes  uprais'd,  as  one  inspir'd, 
Pale  Melancholy  sate  retir'd, 


ODES.  61 

And  from  her  wild  sequester'd  seat, 
In  notes  by  distance  made  more  sweet,  60 

Pour'd  thro'  the  mellow  horn  her  pensive  soul : 
And,  dashing  soft  from  rocks  around. 
Bubbling  runnels  join'd  the  sound ; 
Thro'  glades  and  glooms  the  mingled  measure 
stole  ; 
Or  o'er  some  haunted  stream  with  fond  delay  65 

Round  an  holy  calm  diffusing, 
Love  of  peace  and  lonely  musing, 
In  hollow  murmurs  died  away. 

But  O  how  alter'd  was  its  sprightlier  tone. 

When  Chearfulness,  a  nymph  of  healthiest  hue,  70 

Her  bow  across  her  shoulder  flung, 

Her  buskins  gemrnM  with  morning  dew. 
Blew  an  inspiring  air,  that  dale  and  thicket  rung, 

The  hunter's  call  to  faun  and  dryad  known ! 

The  oak-crown'd  sisters,  and  their  chaste-ey'd 

queen,  75 

Satyrs,  and  sylvan  boys,  were  SQen, 

Peeping  from  forth  their  alleys  green  ; 
Brown  Exercise  rejoic'd  to  hear. 

And  Sport  leapt  up,  and  seiz'd  his  beechen  spear. 

Last  came  Joy's  ecstatic  trial.  80 

He,  with  viny  crown  advancing. 

First  to  the  lively  pipe  his  hand  addrest ; 
But  soon  he  saw  the  brisk  awak'ning  vio4, 

Whose  sweet  entrancing  voice  he  lov'd  the  best. 
They  would  have  thought,  who  heard  the  strain,    85 
They  saw  in  Tempe's  vale  her  native  maids. 
Amidst  the  festal  sounding  shades. 
To  some  unwearied  minstrel  dancing, 

While,  as  his  flying  fingers  kiss'd  the  strings. 


62  POEMS   OF   WILLIAM  COLLINS. 

Love  fram'd  with  Mirth  a  gay  fantastic  round  ;        9° 
Loose  were  her  tresses  seen,  her  zone  unbound, 
And  he,  amidst  his  frolic  play, 

As  if  he  would  the  charming  air  repay. 

Shook  thousand  odours  from  his  dewy  wings. 

O  Music,  sphere-descended  maid,  95 

Friend  of  Pleasure,  Wisdom's  aid, 

Why,  goddess,  why,  to  us  deny'd, 

Lay'st  thou  thy  antient  lyre  aside  ? 

As  in  that  lov'd  Athenian  bow'r 

You  learn'd  an  all-commanding  pow'r,  loo 

Thy  mimic  soul,  O  nymph  endear'd, 

Can  well  recall  what  then  it  heard. 

Where  is  thy  native  simple  heart. 

Devote  to  Virtue,  Fancy,  Art  ? 

Arise  as  in  that  elder  time,  105 

Warm,  energic,  chaste,  sublime  I 

Thy  wonders,  in  that  godlike  age. 

Fill  thy  recording  sister's  page  — 

'T  is  said,  and  I  believe  the  tale, 

Thy  humblest  reed  could  more  prevail,  no 

Had  more  of  strength,  diviner  rage, 

Than  all  which  charms  this  laggard  age, 

Ev'n  all  at  once  together  found, 

Cfficilia's  mingled  world  of  sound. 

O  bid  our  vain  endeavours  cease,  i'5 

Revive  the  just  designs  of  Greece, 

Return  in  all  thy  simple  state, 

Confirm  the  tales  her  sons  relate  ! 


LATER    ODES. 


ODE  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  MR.  THOMSON. 

The  scene  of  the  following  stanzas  is  supposed  to  lie  on  the  Thames, 
near  Richmond. 

In  yonder  grave  a  druid  lies, 

Where  slowly  winds  the  stealing  wave. 

The  year's  best  sweets  shall  duteous  rise 
To  deck  its  poet's  sylvan  grave. 

In  yon  deep  bed  of  whisp'ring  reeds  S 

His  airy  harp  ^  shall  now  be  laid, 
That  he  whose  heart  in  sorrow  bleeds 

May  love  thro'  life  the  soothing  shade. 

Then  maids  and  youths  shall  linger  here  ; 

And  while  its  sounds  at  distance  swell,  lo 

Shall  sadly  seem  in  Pity's  ear 

To  hear  the  Woodland  Pilgrim's  knell. 

Remembrance  oft  shall  haunt  the  shore 
When  Thames  in  summer  wreaths  is  drest, 

And  oft  suspend  the  dashing  oar        •  15 

To  bid  his  gentle  spirit  rest. 

And  oft  as  Ease_an.d_ Health  retire 

To  breezy  lawn,  or  forest  deep. 
The  friend  shall  view  yon  whit'ning  spire, ^ 

And  mid  the  varied  landscape  weep_.  20 

1  The  harp  of  ^olus,  of  which  see  a  description  in  The  Castle  of 
Indolence.  —  C. 

2  Richmond  church.  —  C. 


66  POEMS   OF   WILLIAM  COLLINS. 

But  thou  who  own'st  that  earthy  bed, 

Ah,  what  will  ev'ry  dirge  avail, 
Or  tears  which  Love  and  Pity  shed. 

That  mourn  beneath  the  gliding  sail  ? 

Yet  lives  there  one  whose  heedless  eye  _  25 

Shall  scorn  thy  pale  shrine  glimm'ring  near  ? 

With  him,  sweet  bard,  may  Fancy  die. 
And  Joy  desert  the  blooming  year ! 

But  thou,  lorn  stream,  whose  sullen  tide 

No  sedge-crown 'd  sister's  now  attend,  3° 

Now  waft  me  from  the  green  hill's  side 
Whose  cold  turf  hides  the  buried  friend. 

And  see,  the  fairy^  valleys  fade  ; 
)  '\  ^Piin  night  has  veil'd  the  solemn  view. 
Yet  onqe  again,  dear  parted  shade,  35 

,-  '  Meelc  Nature's  child,  again  adieu  ! 

The  genial  meads,  assign'd  to  bless 
Thy  life,  shall  mourn  thy  early  doom  ; 

Their  hinds  and  shepherd  girls  shall  dress 

With  simple  hands  thy  rural  torpb.  40 

Long,  long,  thy  stone  and  pointed  clay 
Shall  melt  the  musing  Briton's  eygg  ; 

O  vales  and  wild  woods,  shall  he  say, 
In  yonder  grave  your  druid  lies  ! 


LATER    ODES.  67 


AN   ODE   ON   THE    POPULAR    SUPERSTITIONS    OF 
THE    HIGHLANDS    OF    SCOTLAND, 

CONSIDERED  AS  THE  SUBJECT  OF  POETRY. 

I. 

H ,  thou  return'st  from  Thames,  whose  naiads  long 

Have  seen  thee  ling'ring,  with  a  fond  delay, 

'Mid  those  soft  friends,  whose  hearts,  some  future  day, 
Shall  melt,  perhaps,  to  hear  thy  tragic  song. 
Go,  not  unmindful  of  that  cordial  youth  5 

Whom,  long-endear'd,  thou  leav'st  by  Lavant's  side ; 
Together  let  us  wish  him  lasting  truth, 

And  joy  untainted,  with  his  destined  bride. 
Go  !  nor  regardless,  while  these  numbers  boast 

My  short-liv'd  bliss,  forget  my  social  name  ;  lo 

But  think  far  off  how,  on  the  Southern  coast, 

I  met  thy  friendship  with  an  equal  flame  I 
Fresh  to  that  soil  thou  turn'st,  whose  ev'ry  vale 

Shall  prompt  the  poet,  and  his  song  demand : 
To  thee  thy  copious  subjects  ne'er  shall  fail  ;  15 

Thou  need'st  but  take  the  pencil  to  thy  hand, 
And  paint  what  all  believe  who  own  thy  genial  land. 

II. 

There  must  thou  wake  perforce  thy  Doric  quill ; 
'T  is  Fancy's  land  to  which  thou  sett'st  thy  feet. 
Where  still,  't  is  said,  the  fairy  people  meet  20 

Beneath  each  birken  shade  on  mead  or  hill. 

I.    Home,  thou  return'st  from  Thames,  whose  naiads  long 

—  Anon.  ed. 
13.  Fresh  to  that  soil  thou  turn'st,  where  ev'ry  vale  — Anon.  ed. 
16.    Thou  need'st  but  take  thy  pencil,  to  thy  hand,  —  Anon.  ed. 


68  POEMS  OF   WILLIAM  COLLINS. 

There  each  trim  lass  that  skims  the  milky  store 

To  the  swart  tribes  their  creamy  bowl  allots ; 
By  night  they  sip  it  round  the  cottage  door, 

While  airy  minstrels  warble  jocund  notes.  25 

There  ev'ry  herd,  by  sad  experience,  knows 

How,  wing'd  with  fate,  their  elf-shot  arrows  fly; 
When  the  sick  ewe  her  summer  food  foregoes. 

Or,  stretch'd  on  earth,  the  heart-smit  heifers  lie. 
Such  airy  beings  awe  th'  untutor'd  swain :  30 

Nor  thou,  thou  learn'd,  his  homelier  thoughts  neglect ; 
Let  thy  sweet  Muse  the  rural  faith  sustain : 

These  are  the  themes  of  simple,  sure  effect. 
That  add  new  conquests  to  her  boundless  reign. 
And  fill,  with  double  force,  her  heart-commanding  strain.  35 

III. 

Ev'n  yet  preserv'd,  how  often  may'st  thou  hear. 

Where  to  the  pole  the  boreal  mountains  run, 

Taught  by  the  father  to  his  list'ning  son. 
Strange  lays,  whose  pow'r  had  charm'd  a  Spenser's  ear. 
At  ev'ry  pause,  before  thy  mind  possest,  40 

Old  Runic  bards  shall  seem  to  rise  arou^, 
With  uncouth  lyres,  in  many-colour'd  vest, 

Their  matted  hair  with  boughs  fantastic  crown'd  : 
Whether  thou  bid'st  the  well-taught  hind  repeat 

The  choral  dirge  that  mourns  some  chieftain  brave,         45 
When  ev'ry  shrieking  maid  her  bosom  beat, 

And  strew'd  with  choicest  herbs  his  scented  grave  ;  " 
Or  whether,  sitting  in  the  shepherd's  shiel. 

Thou  hear'st  some  sounding  tale  of  war's  alarms,** 
When,  at  the  bugle's  call,  with  fire  and  steel,  5° 

23.    To  the  swart  tribes  their  creamy  bowls  allots  ;     —  Anon.  ed. 
44.    Whether  thou  bid'st  the  well-taught  hind  relate  — MS. 


LATER   ODES.  69 

The  sturdy  clans  pour'd  forth  their  bony  swarms, 
And  hostile  brothers  met  to  prove  each  other's  arms. 

IV. 
'T  is  thine  to  sing,  how,  framing  hideous  spells, 

In  Sky's  lone  isle  the  gifted  wizard  seer, 

Lodg'd  in  the  wintry  cave  with  [  ]  55 

Or  in  the  depth  of  Uist's  dark  forests  dwells  : 
How  they  whose  sight  such  dreary  dreams  engross, 

With  their  own  visions  oft  astonish'd  droop, 
When  o'er  the  wat'ry  strath  or  quaggy  moss 

They  see  the  gliding  ghosts  unbodied  troop  ;  60 

Or  if  in  sports,  or  on  the  festive  green. 

Their  [  ]  glance  some  fated  youth  descry, 

Who,  now  perhaps  in  lusty  vigour  seen 

And  rosy  health,  shall  soon  lamented  die. 
For  them  the  viewless  forms  of  air  obey,  65 

Their  bidding  heed,  and  at  their  beck  repair. 
They  know  what  spirit  brews  the  stormful  day, 

And,  heartless,  oft  like  moody  madness  stare 
To  see  the  phantom  train  their  secret  work  prepare. 

V. 

[This  stanza,  comprising  lines  70-86,  was  missing  in 
the  manuscript.] 

51.    The  sturdy  clans  pour'd  forth  their  brawny  swarms, 

—  Anon.  ed. 
55,  56.        Lodg'd  in  the  wintry  cave  with  Fate's  fell  spear; 

Or  in  the  depth  of  Uist's  dark  forest  dwells  :       — Anon.  ed. 
56.    Or  in  the  gloom  of  Uist's  dark  forests  dwells  :  — MS. 

58.    With  their  own  visions  oft  afflicted  droop,  — MS. 

62.    Their  destin'd  glance  some  fated  youth  descry,    — Anon.  ed. 
66.    Their  bidding  mark,  and  at  their  beck  repair.  —  MS. 

70-86.    To  monarchs  dear,  some  hundred  miles  astray, 
Oft  have  they  seen  Fate  give  the  fatal  blow ! 
The  seer,  in  Sky,  shriek'd  as  the  blood  did  flow, 
When  headless  Charles  warm  on  the  scaffold  lay ! 


70  POEMS   OF   WILLIAM  COLLINS. 


VI. 

[The  first  eight  lines  of  this  stanza,  lines  87-94  of  the 
poem,  were  missing  in  the  manuscript.] 

What  tho'  far  off,  from  some  dark  dell  espied,  95 

His  glimm'ring  mazes  cheer  th'  excursive  sight, 
Yet  turn,  ye  wand'rers,  turn  your  steps  aside. 

Nor  trust  the  guidance  of  that  faithless  light ; 
For,  watchful,  lurking  'mid  th'  unrustling  reed. 

At  those  mirk  hours  the  wily  monster  lies,  100 

And  listens  oft  to  hear  the  passing  steed, 

And  frequent  round  him  rolls  his  sullen  eyes, 
If  chance  his  savage  wrath  may  some  weak  wretch  surprise. 

As  Boreas  threw  his  young  Aurora  forth, 

In  the  first  year  of  the  first  George's  reign, 
And  battles  rag'd  in  welkin  of  the  North, 

They  mourn'd  in  air,  fell,  fell  Rebellion  slain  ! 
And  as,  of  late,  they  joy'd  in  Preston's  fight. 

Saw  at  sad  Falkirk  all  their  hopes  near  crown'd, 
They  rav'd,  divining,  thro'  their  second  sight. 

Pale,  red  Culloden,  where  these  hopes  were  drown'd ! 
Illustrious  William!  Britain's  guardian  name! 

One  William  sav'd  us  from  a  tyrant's  stroke  ; 
He,  for  a  sceptre,  gain'd  heroic  fame  ; 

But  thou,  more  glorious.  Slavery's  chain  hast  broke, 
To  reign  a  private  man,  and  bow  to  Freedom's  yoke ! 

—  Anon.  ed. 
87-94.    These,  \s>o,  thou  'It  sing  !  for  well  thy  magic  Muse 

Can  to  the  topmost  heav'n  of  grandeur  soar! 

Or  stoop  to  wail  the  swain  that  is  no  more! 
Ah,  homely  swains  !   your  homeward  steps  ne'er  lose  ; 
Let  not  dank  Will  mislead  you  to  the  heath: 

Dancing  in  mirky  night,  o'er  fen  and  lake, 
lie  glows,  to  draw  you  downward  to  your  death, 

In  his  bewitch 'd,  low,  marshy  willow  brake  !      —  .^non.  ed. 
100.    At  those  sad  hours  the  wily  monster  lies,  — MS. 


LATER    ODES.  71 


VII. 

Ah,  luckless  swain,  o'er  all  unblest  indeed  ! 

Whom,  late  bewilder'd  in  the  dank,  dark  fen,  105 

Far  from  his  flocks  and  smoking  hamlet  then, 
To  that  sad  spot  [  ] 

On  him,  enrag'd,  the  fiend,  in  angry  mood. 

Shall  never  look  with  Pity's  kind  concern, 
But  instant,  furious,  raise  the  whelming  flood  no 

O'er  its  drown'd  bank,  forbidding  all  return. 
Or,  if  he  meditate  his  wish'd  escape 

To  some  dim  hill  that  seems  uprising  near. 
To  his  faint  eye  the  grim  and  grisly  shape. 

In  all  its  terrors  clad,  shall  wild  appear.  115 

Meantime,  the  wat'ry  surge  shall  round  him  rise, 

Pour'd  sudden  forth  from  ev'ry  swelling  source. 
What  now  remains  but  tears  and  hopeless  sighs? 

His  fear-shook  limbs  have  lost  their  youthly  force, 
And  down   the  waves  he  floats,  a   pale  and  breathless 

corse.  120 

VIII. 

For  him,  in  vain,  his  anxious  wife  shall  v>ait, 

Or  wander  forth  to  meet  him  on  his  way; 

For  him,  in  vain,  at  to-fall  of  the  day. 
His  babes  shall  linger  at  th'  unclosing  gate. 
Ah,  ne'er  shall  he  return  !      Alone,  if  night  125 

Her  travell'd  limbs  in  broken  slumbers  steep. 
With  dropping  willows  drest,  his  mournful  sprite 

Shall  visit  sad,  perchance,  her  silent  sleep  : 

107.  To  that  sad  spot  where  hums  the  sedgy  weed  :  — Anon.  ed. 

III.  O'er  its  drown'd  banks,  forbidding  all  return.  — Anon.  ed. 

124.  His  babes  shall  linger  at  the  cottage  gate.  —  MS. 

127.  With  drooping  willows  drest,  his  mournful  sptite  —  Anon.  ed. 


72  POEMS   OF   WILLIAM  COLLINS. 

Then  he,  perhaps,  with  moist  and  wat'ry  hand, 

Shall  fondly  seem  to  press  her  shudd'ring  cheek,  130 

And  with  his  blue-swoln  face  before  her  stand, 

And,  shiv'ring  cold,  these  piteous  accents  speak : 
"  Pursue,  dear  wife,  thy  daily  toils  pursue 

At  dawn  or  dusk,  industrious  as  before ; 
Nor  e'er  of  me  one  hapless  thought  renew,  135 

While  I  lie  welt'ring  on  the  ozier'd  shore, 
Drown 'd  by  the  kaelpie's  wrath,  nor  e'er  shall  aid  thee 
more  ! " 

IX. 

Unbounded  is  thy  range  ;  with  varied  stile 

Thy  Muse  may,  like  those  feath'ry  tribes  which  spring 

From  their  rude  rocks,  extend  her  skirting  wing  140 

Round  the  moist  marge  of  each  cold  Hebrid  isle, 
To  that  hoar  pile  which  still  its  ruin  shows  : 

In  whose  small  vaults  a  pigmy-folk  is  found, 
Whose  bones  the  delver  with  his  spade  upthrows. 

And  culls  them,  wond'ring,  from  the  hallow'd  ground  !   MS 
Or  thither,  where,  beneath  the  show'ry  West, 

The  mighty  kings  of  three  fair  realms  are  laid  : 
Once  foes,  perhaps,  together  now  they  rest ; 

No  slaves  revere  them,  and  no  wars  invade : 
Yet  frequent  now,  at  midnight's  solemn  hour,  150 

The  rifted  mounds  their  yawning  cells  unfold, 
And  forth  the  monarchs  stalk  with  sov'reign  pow'r. 

In  pageant  robes,  and  wreath'd  with  sheeny  gold. 
And  on  their  twilight  tombs  aerial  council  hold. 

130.  Shall  seem  to  press  her  cold  and  shudd'ring  cheek,     —  MS. 

133.  "  Proceed,  dear  wife,  thy  daily  toils  pursue  "  —  MS. 

135.  Nor  e'er  of  me  one  helpless  thought  renew,       —  Anon.  ed. 

138.  Unbounded  is  thy  range;  with  varied  skill  —  Anon.  ed. 

150.  Yet  frequent  now  at  midnight  solemn  hour,        —  Anon.  ed. 


LATER   ODES.  73 

X. 

But  O,  o'er  all,  forget  not  Kilda's  race,  155 

On  whose  bleak  rocks,  which  brave  the  wasting  tides, 

Fair  Nature's  daughter.  Virtue,  yet  abides. 
Go,  just  as  they,  their  blameless  manners  trace  ! 
Then  to  my  ear  transmit  some  gentle  song 

Of  those  whose  lives  are  yet  sincere  and  plain,  160 

Their  bounded  walks  the  rugged  cliffs  along, 

And  all  their  prospect  but  the  wintry  main. 
With  sparing  temp'rance,  at  the  needful  time, 

They  drain  the  sainted  spring,  or,  hunger-prest, 
Along  th'  Atlantic  rock  undreading  climb,  165 

And  of  its  eggs  despoil  the  solan's  nest. 
Thus  blest  in  primal  innocence  they  live, 

Suffic'd  and  happy  with  that  frugal  fare 
Which  tasteful  toil  and  hourly  danger  give. 

Hard  is  their  shallow  soil,  and  bleak  and  bare  ;  170 

Nor  ever  vernal  bee  was  heard  to  murmur  there  ! 

XL 

Nor  need'st  thou  blush,  that  such  false  themes  engage 

Thy  gentle  mind,  of  fairer  stores  possest ; 

For  not  alone  they  touch  the  village  breast, 
But  fill'd  in  elder  time  th'  historic  page.  175 

There  Shakespear's  self,  with  ev'ry  garland  crown'd, 

[       .  .  _  ] 

In  musing  hour,  his  wayward  Sisters  found. 

And  with  their  terrors  drest  the  magic  scene. 

From  them  he  sung  when,  'mid  his  bold  design,  180 

164.    They  drain  the  scented  spring,  or,  hunger-prest, 

—  Anon.  ed. 
177,  178.    Flew  to  those  fairy  climes  his  fancy  sheen, 

In  musing  hour  ;  his  wayward  Sisters  found,    —  Anon.  ed. 


74  POEMS   OF   WILLIAM  COLLINS. 

Before  the  Scot  afflicted  and  aghast, 
The  shadowy  kings  of  Banquo's  fated  line 

Thro'  the  dark  cave  in  gleamy  pageant  past. 
Proceed,  nor  quit  the  tales  which,  simply  told, 

Could  once  so  well  my  answ'ring  bosom  pierce  ;         185, 
Proceed  !  in  forceful  sounds  and  colours  boldj 

The  native  legends  of  thy  land  rehearse  \ 
To  such  adapt  thy  lyre  and  suit  thy  pow'rful  verse. 

XII. 

In  scenes  like  these,  which,  daring  to  depart 

From  sober  truth,  are  still  to  nature  true,  190 

And  call  forth  fresh  delight  to  Fancy's  view, 

Th'  heroic  muse  employ'd  her  Tasso's  art  ! 

How  have  I  trembled,  when,  at  Tancred's  stroke, 
Its  gushing  blood  the  gaping  cypress  pour'd  ; 

When  each  live  plant  with  mortal  accents  spoke,  '95 

And  the  wild  blast  upheav'd  the  vanish'd  sword  ! 

How  have  I  sat,  when  pip'd  the  pensive  wind. 
To  hear  his  harp,  by  British  Fairfax  strung. 

Prevailing  poet,  whose  undoubting  mind 

Believ'd  the  magic  wonders  which  he  sung  !  200 

Hence  at  each  sound  imagination  glows; 

[  ] 

Hence  his  warm  lay  with  softest  sweetness  flows ; 

186.    Proceed  1  in  forceful  sounds  and  colour  bold,    —  Anon.  ed. 
193-196.    How  have  I  trembled,  when,  at  Tancred's  side, 
Like  him  I  stalk'd,  and  all  his  passions  felt; 
When,  charm'd  by  Ismen,  thro'  the  forest  wide, 
Bark'd  in  each  plant,  a  talking  spirit  dwelt!  —  MS. 

201-205.    Hence,  sure  to  charm,  his  early  numbers  flow, 

Tho'  faithful,  sweet ;  tho'  strong,  of  simple  kind. 
Hence,  with  each  theme,  he  bids  the  bosom  glow, 

While  his  warm  lays  an  easy  passage  find, 
Pour'd  thro'  each  inmost  nerve,  and  lull  th'  harmonious 
ear.  — MS. 


LATER    ODES.  75 

Melting  it  flows,  pure,  num'rous,  strong,  and  clear, 
And  fills  th'  impassion'd  heart,  and  wins  th'  harmoni- 
ous ear.  205 

XIII. 

All  hail,  ye  scenes  that  o'er  my  soul  prevail, 
Ye  [  ]   friths  and  lakes  which,  far  away, 

Are  by  smooth  Annan  fill'd,  or  past'ral  Tay, 

Or  Don's  romantic  springs  ;  at  distance,  hail  ! 

The  time  shall  come  when  I,  perhaps,  may  tread  210 

Your  lowly  glens,  o'erhung  with  spreading  broom. 

Or  o'er  your  stretching  heaths  by  fancy  led  : 

[         _  ] 

Then  will  I  dress  once  more  the  faded  bow'r. 

Where  Jonson  sat  in  Drummond's  [  ]  shade,       215 

Or  crop  from  Tiviot's  dale  each  [  ] 

And  mourn  on  Yarrow's  banks  [  ] 

Meantime,  ye  Pow'rs  that  on  the  plains  which  bore 

The  cordial  youth,  on  Lothian's  plains,  attend. 
Where'er  he  dwell,  on  hill  or  lowly  muir,  220 

To  him  I  lose  your  kind  protection  lend. 
And,  touch'd  with  love  like  mine,  preserve  my  absent 
friend  ! 

202.    Tho' strong,  yet  sweet — MS. 

202.    Hence,  at  each  picture,  vivid  life  starts  here  !    — •  Anon.  ed. 
204.    Melting  it  flows,  pure,  murm'ring,  strong,  and  clear, 

—  Anon.  ed. 
207.    Ye  splendid  friths  and  lakes  which,  far  away, 

—  Anon.  ed. 
213.    Or  o'er  your  mountains  creep,  in  awful  gloom  ! 

—  Anon.ed. 
215-217.        Where  Jonson  sat  in  Drummond's  classic  shade  ; 

Or  crop  from  Tiviotdale  each  lyric  flow'r, 

And  mourn,  on  Yarrow's  banks,  where  Willy  's  laid  ! 

—  Anon.  ed. 
220.    Where'er  Home  dwells,  on  hill  or  lowly  moor,    — Anon.ed. 


NOTES. 


3] 


N  O  T  E  S.i 


TO    MISS    AURELIA    C R.     (3) 

This  is  probably  CoUins's  earliest  printed  poem.^  It  appeared  in 
The  Gentleman's  Magazine  for  January,  1739,  over  the  signature 
"  Amasius."  That  Collins  was  the  author  is  affirmed  in  a  sketch  of 
his  life  in  Fawkes  and  Woty's  Poetical  Caletidar,  December,  1763,  and 
in  Johnson's  Life  of  Collins.  Other  poems  by  "  Amasius  "  appeared  in 
The  Gentleman' s  Magazine  in  1739,  1740,  1741,  and  1743  ;  but  they  are 
so  poor  that  Collins  can  hardly  have  written  them,  as  a  sample  will 

show  : 

Assisted  by  the  telescope, 

Yon  miglity  orbs  survey, 
How  regular  they  whirl  around 

The  planetary  way ! 


SONNET.     (3) 

These  lines,  after  the  fashion  of  the  day  loosely  styled  a  sonnet, 
were  published  in  The  Gentleman's  Magazine  for  October,  1739,  and 
signed  "  Delicatulus."  They  are  attributed  to  Collins  by  Joseph 
Warton.  "  In  a  magazine  \_The  Gentlema7i''s  Magazine,  where  the  three 
poems  mentioned  are  printed  together]  I  find  the  following  memo- 
randum, in  Dr.  Warton's  hand-writing: — 'P.  545.  Sappho'' s  Advice 
was  written  by  me,  then  at  Winchester  school  ;  the  next  by  Tomkyns  ; 
and  the  sonnet  by  Collins.  J.  Warton.'  "  —  John  Wooll,  in  his  Memoirs 
of  Warton,  London,  1806,  p.  107.  The  poem  was  noticed  in  the  next 
issue  of  the  magazine  in  a  letter  to  the  editor  which  Wooll  says  was 
written  by  Johnson  (although  Chalmers,  in  his  sketch  of  Warton's  life 
in  his  English  Poets,  says  W' ooll  was  mistaken) :  "  The  least,  which  is  a 

1  The  figures  in  parenthesis  after  the  titles  of  the  poems,  and  the  figures  in 
brackets  at  the  tops  of  the  pages,  refer  to  pages  of  the  text. 

2  For  reference  to  an  earlier  poem,  perhaps  by  him,  see  Introduction,  p.  xiii. 


80  NOTES.  [3 

favorite  of  mine,  carries  a  force  mixed  with  tenderness,  and  an  uncom- 
mon elevation."  A  good  deal  of  allowance  must  be  made  for  the  fact 
that  this  letter  was  written,  as  its  last  paragraph  shows,  to  puff  the 
magazine  ;  but  the  praise  of  Collins's  poem,  although  too  serious  for 
such  a  trifle  (coming  from  Johnson  it  reminds  one  of  an  elephant  toying 
with  a  comfit),  seems  less  perfunctory  than  the  rest  of  the  letter  and 
may  have  helped  to  draw  the  two  men  together  a  few  years  later. 
I.  wanton  = //a)y«/ ;  '^&x\^2l^%  coquettish  here. 


SONG.     (3) 


The  authenticity  of  this  poem  is  doubtful.  It  was  printed  anony- 
mously in  The  Public  Advertiser,  London,  March  7,  1788,  where  the 
present  editor  stumbled  upon  it  recently;  whether  it  had  appeared 
earlier  is  uncertain.  It  was  printed  among  Collins's  poems  in  Johnson's 
English  Poets,  1790,  in  Anderson's  Poets  of  Great  Britain,  1794,  and  in 
Chalmers's  English  Poets,  1810.  It  was  not  contained  in  Park's  British 
Poets,  1805,  but  apparently  was  added  in  a  later  edition.  "Mr.  Park 
(who  inserted  it  on  an  additional  leaf)  observes  to  me  that  he  has  now 
forgotten  on  what  authority  he  gave  it  as  the  production  of  Collins, 
but  that  he  must  have  been  satisfied  of  its  genuineness  at  the  time  he 
reprinted  it,  else  he  would  not  have  done  so."  —  Dyce,  in  his  edition  of 
Collins,  London  and  Oxford,  1827,  p.  208.  The  Aldine  Collins  (Lon- 
don, 1894,  p.  loi)  has  the  following  note  :  "A  manuscript  copy  in  the 
collection  recently  belonging  to  I^r.  Upcott,  and  now  in  the  British 
Museum,  is  headed,  '  Written  by  Collins  when  at  Winchester  School. 
From  a  Manuscript.' "  A  recent  search  at  the  British  Museum  by  the 
present  editor  failed  to  discover  any  trace  of  such  a  manuscript. 

A  comparison  with  the  following  lines  from  Ophelia's  song  {Hamlet, 
iv,  5)  will  show  how  far  "  the  sentiments  "  are  "  borrowed  from  Shake- 
spear  "  : 

He  is  dead  and  gone,  lady, 

He  is  dead  and  gone ; 
At  his  head  a  grass-green  turf, 
At  his  heels  a  stone. 

White  his  shroud  as  the  mountain  snow. 

Larded  with  sweet  flowers  ; 
Which  bewept  to  the  grave  did  go 

With  true-love  showers. 


3-5]  NOTES.  81 

They  bore  him  barefaced  on  the  bier ; 
And  in  his  grave  rain'd  many  a  tear. 

And  will  he  not  come  again  ? 
And  will  he  not  come  again  ? 

No,  no,  he  is  dead : 

Go  to  thy  death-bed : 
He  never  will  come  again. 

2.  lowland  seems  to  have  been  the  earlier  reading  {The  Public 
Advertiser,  1788  ;  Anderson's  Poets  of  Great  Britain,  1794)  ;  certainly 
it  is  the  better  :  the  lowliness  of  the  hamlets  is  not  relevant,  while  the 
fact  that  they  are  "  lowland,"  in  the  "  vale"  where  Damon  was  known 
and  loved,  is  relevant. 

18.  who  lov'd  is  less  obvious  than  belov''d  (for  which  there  seems  to 
be  no  authority  except  that  cited  in  the  footnote),  and  it  adds  an  active 
element  to  the  character  of  Damon,  who  would  otherwise  be  wholly 
passive,  a  mere  target  for  affection. 


VERSES  WRITTEN  ON  A  PAPER,  ETC.  (4) 

On  what  evidence  this  poem  was  ascribed  to  Collins  does  not  appear. 
It  is  clearly  in  his  manner.  It  was  published,  apparently  for  the  first 
time,  along  with  several  other  of  Collins's  poems  in  Pearch's  Collection 
of  Poems  (London,  3d  ed.,  1775,  vol.  II).  In  the  present  edition  it  is 
placed  among  the  early  poems  wholly  on  internal  evidence.  It  seems 
to  belong  to  the  days  of  the  poet's  younger  and  mildly  amorous  muse  ; 
but  it  shows  more  maturity  of  manner  than  the  first  two  poems,  and 
may  have  been  written,  in  an  idle  hour,  as  late  as  the  earlier  odes. 

6.  shepherd's,  i.e.,  the  poet's. 

haunted,  i.e.,  by  "  flattering  dreams  "  ;  see  1.  22. 

19.   Cf.  Paradise  Lost,  iv,  310,  311  : 

With  coy  submission,  modest  pride, 
And  sweet,  reluctant,  amorous  delay. 

22,  24.  his  refers  to  shepherd''s,  1.  6. 


82  NOTES.  [6 


A    SONG   FROM   SHAKESPEAR'S    CYMBELINE.     (6) 

This  song  was  published  in  1744,  in  the  same  folio  with  the  Epistle 
to  Sir  Thomas  Hanmer ;  see  p.  Ixxx.  In  October,  1749,  it  was  re- 
printed, with  changes,  in  The  Gentleman's  Magazine.  In  Nichols's  Lit- 
erary Anecdotes  (London,  181 2,  vol.  V,  p.  53),  is  preserved  the  following 
reminiscence  by  Sir  John  Hawkins  : 

"  I  remember  that,  calling  in  on  him  [Cave,  proprietor  of  The  Gentleman' s 
Magazine^  once,  he  gave  me  to  read  the  beautiful  poem  of  Collins,  written  for 
Shakspeare's  Cymbcline,  '  To  fair  Fidele"s  grassy  tomb,'  which,  though  adapted 
to  a  particular  circumstance  in  the  play,  Cave  was  for  inserting  in  his  magazine 
without  any  reference  to  the  subject.  1  told  him  it  would  lose  of  its  beauty  if  it 
were  so  published:  this  he  could  not  see ;  nor  could  he  be  convinced  of  the  pro- 
priety of  the  name  Fidele:  he  thought  Past  or  a  a  better,  and  so  printed  it." 

The  other  changes,  also,  were  doubtless  unauthorized;  and,  as  a  bit 
of  literary  history  illustrating  the  prevailing  carelessness  and  lack  of 
conscience  in  such  matters  then,  it  is  worth  while  to  give  the  entire  list: 
Title,  Elegiac  Song;  i.  Pastora's ;  7.  swains  for  lads;  11.  But  for 
The  (repeating  the  sentence-structure  of  the  preceding  stanza);  12. 
bed  iox  grave ;  17.  chiding  ior  howling;  18.  tempest  for  tempests;  19. 
flocks  for  chace  (still  further  obliterating  the  poem's  relation  to  Cym- 
beline :  Guiderius  and  Arviragus  were  hunters,  not  shepherds)  ;  21. 
lovely  for  lonely ;  23.  can  for  could  (Collins's  thought  was,  '  Beloved 
to  extreme  old  age,  when  life  could  have  charmed  no  more  even  if  it 
had  been  continued'). 

The  misspelling  of  "  Guiderius  "  may  have  been  a  printer's  error,  but 
very  likely  it  was  one  of  Collins's  careless  slips. 

The  atmosphere  of  tender  grace  pervading  the  poem  is  peculiarly 
Collins's  own  ;  but  a  comparison  with  Cymbcline,  iv,  2,  shows  that 
the  inspiration  of  the  lines  was  a  fine  sympathy  with  the  spirit  of 
Shakspere's  scene  as  a  whole,  although  the  likeness  between  the  two 
songs  is  slight.  Dyce  compares  1.  5  with  Cymbeline,  iv,  2,  278 :  Ghost 
unlaid  forbear  thee  ;  1.  9  with  277  :  Nor  no  witchcraft  charm  thee  ;  1.  1 1 
with  217  :  With  female  fairies  will  his  tomb  be  haunted ;  stanza  4  with 

224-229  : 

the  ruddock  would. 
With  charitable  bill,  —  O  bill,  sore-shaming 
Those  rich-left  heirs  that  let  their  fathers  lie 
Without  a  monument  I  —  bring  thee  all  this ; 
Yea,  and  furr'd  moss  besides,  when  flowers  are  none, 
To  winter-ground  thy  corse. 


6,7]  NOTES.  83 

Compare  also,  for  their  spirit  of  delicate  love,  lines  21S-224  with  the 

poem  as  a  whole  : 

With  fairest  flowers 
While  summer  lasts  and  I  live  here,  Fidele, 
I  '11  sweeten  thy  sad  grave  :  thou  shalt  not  lack 
The  flower  that 's  like  thy  face,  pale  primrose,  nor 
The  azured  harebell,  like  thy  veins,  no,  nor 
The  leaf  of  eglantine,  whom  not  to  slander, 
Out-sweeten'd  not  thy  breath. 

4.  breathing  spring.     Dyce  compares  Pope's  Messiah,  24  : 
With  all  the  incense  of  the  breathing  spring. 


ORIENTAL   ECLOGUES.     (7) 

The  Eclogues  were  first  published  in  January,  1742  (see  The  Gentle- 
nia7i's  Magazine,  January,  1742,  register  of  books),  with  the  title,  Per- 
sian Eclogues  (see  p.  Ixxix).  Eive  hundred  copies  were  printed  :  "  Mr. 
Andrew  Millar,  Dr.  Dec.  10,  1741.  Persian  Eclogues,  lyi  shts.,  No. 
500.  Reprinting  ^  sht."  —  Ledger  of  Woodfall,  the  printer,  from 
Notes  and  Queries,  ist  series,  vol.  XI,  p.  419.  \\\  January,  1757  (see 
The  Gentleman's  Magazine,  January,  1757,  register  of  books),  a  second 
edition,  considerably  revised,  with  the  title  of  Oriental  Eclogues, 
appeared  (see  p.  Ixxxi). 

"  Mr.  Collins  wrote  his  eclogues  when  he  was  about  seventeen  years  old,  at 
Winchester  school,  and,  as  I  well  remember,  had  just  been  reading  that  volume 
of  Salmon's  Modern  History  which  described  Persia ;  which  determined  him  to 
lay  the  scene  of  these  pieces  [there],  as  Iseing  productive  of  new  images  and  senti- 
ments. In  his  maturer  years  he  was  accustomed  to  speak  very  contemptuously 
of  them,  calling  them  his  Irish  Eclogues,  and  saying  they  had  not  in  them  one 
spark  of  Orientalism  :  and  desiring  me  to  erase  a  motto  he  had  prefixed  to  tliem 
in  a  copy  he  gave  me;  —  quos  primus  equis  oriens  afflavit  anhelis.  Virg.  He 
was  greatly  mortified  that  they  found  more  readers  and  admirers  tlian  his  odes." 
—  Joseph  Warton,  in  his  edition  of  Pope,  London,  1797,  vol.  I,  p.  61. 

The  statement  about  the  motto  is  inconsistent  with  what  Warton 
wrote  in  the  copy  given  to  him  by  Collins  (see  p.  Ixxix) ;  either  Wharton's 
memory  was  at  fault,  or  Collins  gave  him  another  copy  in  early  years. 

The  motto  is  not  the  entire  line  [Georgics,  i,  250),  nosque  being 
omitted  before  tihi.     Collins   originally  wrote    quos  instead    of  nosque 


84  NOTES.  [7-1] 

ubi;  this  may  perhaps  indicate  that  he  had  forgotten  the  context  and 
took  the  line  as  a  designation  of  the  Orientals,  those  on  whom  the 
sun  shines  first  in  its  progress  westward;  but  it  is  more  likely  that  he 
meant  to  ignore  the  context  and  let  the  words  be  taken  to  mean  what 
they  appear  to  mean  when  standing  alone. 

In  the  1742  edition  the  following  lines  from  Cicero's  Oration  for  the 
Poet  Archias  preceded  the  Preface:  Quod  si  non  hie  tantus  fructus 
ostenderetur,  et  si  ex  his  studiis  delectatio  sola  peteretur;  tamen,  ut 
opinor,  hanc  animi  remissionem  humanissimam  ac  liberalissimam  judi- 
caretis. 

The  following  passage  from  Salmon's  Modern  History  evidently 
suggested  to  Collins  much  of  what  is  said  or  implied  in  the  Preface  and 
Eclogue  the  First  about  Persian  poets  and  poetry : 

"Ever>'  great  man  has  a  poet  in  his  family,  and  no  entertainment  is  complete 
unless  a  poet  be  there  to  oblige  the  company  with  his  compositions.  There  are 
many  of  them  who  frequent  the  coffee  houses,  and  publick  places  of  resort,  where 
they  repeat  their  poems  to  the  audience.  .  .  .  The  King  himself  entertains 
several  as  his  domesticks.  .  .  .  The  subject  of  their  poems  is  generally  some 
piece  of  morality,  or  philosophy.  .  .  .  One  method  which  the  antients  took  to 
preserve  the  memory  of  their  great  actions,  was  to  make  them  the  subject  of  their 
songs,  and  sing  them  in  their  assemblies,  and  at  their  festivals,  as  is  the  custom 
in  Persia  at  this  day.  .  .  .  The  thoughts  are  noble  and  elevated,  th|ir  expres- 
sions soft ;  .  .  .  their  allusions  are  delicate,  and  abundance  of  hyperbole  you 
must  exjDCCt  in  all  their  figures.  Love  is  sometimes  the  subject  of  their  poems, 
as  well  as  morality  and  history  ;  but  nothing  immodest  ...  is  ever  the  subject 
of  their  verse."  —  Modern  History :  or,  the  Present  State  of  All  Nations,  by 
Thomas  Salmon,  London,  1744,  3d  ed.,  vol.  I,  p.  ■^yj. 

For  the  reference  in  the  Preface  to  Hosseyn,  see  pp.  89,  90. 


ECLOGUE   THE    FIRST.     (11) 

The  selection  of  morning  as  the  time  for  giving  all  this  good  advice 
to  "  the  fair  and  young  "  is  arbitrary,  unless  there  be  an  allusion  to  the 
threadbare  figure  of  youth  as  the  morning  of  life. 

6.  This  sentiment  must  have  met  with  the  approval  of  Johnson;  it 
is  akin  to  the  theme  of  his  Rasselas. 

12,  The  line  contravenes  a  poetic  commonplace  of  the  age,  accord- 
ing to  which  rural  life  was  credited  with  superior  virtues  as  well  as 
superior  happiness.     Cf.  Gray's  Elegy,  Goldsmith's  Deserted   Village, 


11-13]  NOTES.  85 

and  Collins's  own  Ode  on  the  Popular  Superstitiois  of  the  Highlands  of 
Scotland,  stanza  lo. 

13.  The  readings  of  the  text  of  1742  show  what  difficulty  Collins 
had  in  keeping  himself  in  Persia  ;  he  came  back  to  Europe  in  Eastern 
and  od'rous.     Cf.  1.  69,  the  earlier  reading. 

17.  Tigris'.  Bagdat,  on  the  Tigris,  long  a  bone  of  contention 
between  Persia  and  Turkey,  was  retaken  by  Abbas  the  Great  before  the 
time  when  the  Eclogues  are  supposed  to  have  been  written ;  the  refer- 
ence is  therefore  in  keeping  with  the  fiction.  Cf.  maids  of  Bagdat, 
1.  70. 

19.  The  correction  oi  ye  to  yon,  here  and  in  11.  21,  25,  49,  is  made  in 
Collins's  handwriting  in  the  copy  of  the  Persian  Eclogues  given  by  him 
to  J.  Warton. 

23-25.  The  thought  is  obscure  and  awkwardly  expressed.  Appar- 
ently the  meaning  is  that  the  Persian  maids  have  eyes  like  the  morning 
and  flower-like  beauty,  which  inspire  love. 

23.  loves  supplies.  An  instance  of  what  Johnson  meant,  in  his 
censure  of  Collins's  verse,  by  lines  "  clogged  and  impeded  with  clusters 
of  consonants." 

32.  A  comparison  with  the  earlier  reading  is  rather  amusing ;  the 
poet's  opinion  of  pearls  seems  to  have  changed  in  the  interval. 

33-36.  The  balanced  sentence-structure  and  the  antithesis  show  the 
influence  of  the  prevailing  fashion  in  verse  upon  Collins's  early  manner. 

37,  38.  A  couplet  much  in  the  neat  style  of  Pope. 

46.  Immortal  Truth.  The  improvement  upon  the  earlier  reading 
is  manifest.  Truth  is  here  male,  and  therefore  fiir-ey^d  is  scarcely 
appropriate  ;  certainly  it  is  weaker  than  immortal. 

47.  fair  maids  !  ye  Virtues.     The  daughters  of  Truth  and  Wisdom. 

come  away !  i.e.,  to  Persia,  and  bring  the  Golden  Age  again. 

51-68.  The  conception  of  a  train  of  personified  virtues  accompany- 
ing Modesty  is  manifestly  borrowed  from  L' Allegro  and  //  Penseroso, 
where  Mirth  and  Melancholy  are  similarly  attended. 

53.  An  awkward  inversion  for  the  sake  of  a  rhyme. 

53,  54.  In  the  text  of  1742  these  lines  greatly  needed  revision.  The 
first  line  had  only  two  significant  words,  come  and  Modesty ;  O  and 
thou  were  there  expletives,  and  as  they  decree  merely  repeated  so  the  Fates 
ordaifi  of  1.  51.  The  second  line  contained  an  unnatural  and  stale  con- 
ceit, and  diverted  attention  from  the  maids  of  Bagdat  to  the  effect  of 
the  coming  Golden  Age  upon  the  complexion  of  roses. 

57-62.  The  description  of  Chastity  is  not  a  success.  We  do  not 
like  this  Chastity;  she  is  too  suspicious  and  self-conscious  by  half. 


86  NOTES.  [13,  14 

59,  6o.  "  In  some  parts  of  the  East,  antelopes  are  taken  by  hawks, 
trained  purposely  to  take  them."  —  Critical  Essays,  by  John  Scott, 
London,  1785,  p.  163. 

64.  Faith,  i.e.,  Fidelity. 

65.  desponding  seems  too  strong  a  word ;  the  idea,  apparently,  is 
the  negative  one  of  freedom  from  over-confidence. 

down-cast  eyes.     Cf .  //  Penseroso,  43 : 

With  a  sad  leaden  downward  cast. 

70.  One  very  much  doubts  whether  the  maids  of  Bagdat  would  do 
any  such  eighteenth-century-English  thing  as  '  verify  a  lay.'  In  these 
Eclogues  Collins  was  putting  new  wine  into  old  bottles,  and  frequently 
the  wine  smacks  of  the  bottle. 

72.  song  is  the  object  of  bless''d  only. 


ECLOGUE   THE    SECOND.     (14)      , 

The  appropriateness  of  mid-day  for  this  desert-picture  is  obvious. 

I.  boundless.  By  this  change  from  the  earlier  text  Collins  at  once 
removed  a  tautology  {desart  waste),  and  helped  the  reader  to  realize  the 
immensity  of  the  desert. 

6.  Mitford  (in  Dyce's  Collins)  compares  Marlowe's  Hero  and Lcander, 
sestiad  ii,  1 1  : 

Her  painted  fan  of  curled  plumes  let  fall. 

15,  16.  It  is  incredible  that  a  Persian,  especially  one  competent  to 
drive  camels,  should  not  have  thought  of  the  danger  of  winds,  thirst, 
and  hunger  in  the  desert.  The  improbability  is  of  consequence  only 
because  it  lessens  our  sympathy  with  Hassan  by  lessening  our  sense  of 
even  an  imaginative  reality  in  the  whole  situation. 

17.  The  personification  seems  unnatural  here.  Would  not  Hassan 
be  much  more  likely  to  think  of  thirst  as  too  inextricably  a  part  of  him- 
self.'* An  abstract  Thirst,  stalking  the  desert  in  search  of  an  oasis, 
would  hardly  have  troubled  him.  Contrast  Shelley's  Revolt  of  Islam, 
canto  iii,  stanza  31  : 

Thirst  raged  within  me,  like  a  scorpion's  nest 
Built  in  mine  entrails. 


14-16]  NOTES.  87 

20.  A  feeble  conclusion.  Not  "  tears  and  hunger,"  but  death  by 
slow  torture,  and  bones  bleaching  on  the  sands,  would  be  the  pictures 
before  Hassan's  affrighted  imagination. 

21-28.  As  a  delightful  specimen  of  old-fashioned  criticism  the  com- 
ment of  Langhorne  is  worth  reading : 

"  It  is  difficult  to  say  whether  his  apostrophe  to  the  "  mute  companions  of  his 
toils '  is  more  to  be  admired  for  the  elegance  and  beauty  of  the  poetical  imagery, 
or  for  the  tenderness  and  humanity  of  the  sentiment.  He  who  can  read  it  with- 
out being  affected  will  do  his  heart  no  injustice  if  he  concludes  it  to  be  destitute 
of  sensibility."  —  Langhorne's  Collins^  London,  1765,  p.  119. 

Lines  23-26  are  certainly  pretty;  rather  too  pretty  to  be  spoken  by 
a  "  wild  "  and  "  affrighted  "  man,  in  danger  of  death,  talking  to  camels 
in  a  desert.  But  of  course  the  poem  does  not  aim  at  strict  realism ; 
and,  further,  Hassan  may  be  thought  of  as  half  forgetting,  for  a 
moment,  the  horror  of  the  present  scene  while  recalling  the  "  green 
delights  "  which  he  has  foolishly  left  behind.  Lines  27,  28,  in  which 
his  thoughts  return  to  the  desert,  deserve  Campbell's  praise  :  "  He  does 
not  merely  seem  to  describe  the  sultry  desert,  but  brings  it  home  to  the 
senses."  —  Campbell's  Specitnens  of  (he  British  Poets,  London,  1819, 
vol.  V,  p.  310. 

25.   green  delights.     Dyce  compares  Thomson's  Sunimet-,  956  : 

And  all  the  green  delights  Ausonia  pours; 
and  Euripides's  Bacchae,  866,  867  : 

xXoepais  .  .  .  XeifxaKOS  ijdovais. 

38.  A  bungling  line :  thee  refers  to  money  (1.  35)  by  a  very  abrupt 
change  from  the  third  person  to  the  second  ;  only  goes  with  thee ;  yet 
apparently  means  still,  after  all,  as  so  often  in  Elizabethan  English. 

40.   fond  =^ foolish. 

52.  One  of  the  most  imaginative  bits  in  the  Eclogues.  Cf.  the  scene 
in  Rohijison  Crusoe  where  Crusoe  comes  upon  the  footprint  in  the  sand. 

54.  A  piece  of  conventional  imagery,  made  worse  by  contrast  with 
the  vigorous  lines  that  follow. 

56.  "  In  Hyrcania  and  Curdistan,  the  woody  parts  of  the  country, 
wild  beasts  abound,  such  as  lions,  tygers,  leopards,  wild-hogs,  jackalls, 
etc."  —  Salmon,  vol.  I,  p.  334. 

61,  63.  "That  part  of  the  country  which  lies  upon  the  Caspian  and 
Hyrcanian  sea  is  full  of  serpents,  toads,  scorpions,  and  other  venomous 
insects." — Salmon,  vol.  I,  p.  334. 


88  NOTES.  [16,  17 

66.  Dyce  compares  Pope's  Epistle  to  Robert,  Earl  of  Oxford,  26  : 
The  lust  of  lucre  and  the  dread  of  death. 

71,  72.  The  punctuation  in  the  Aldine  Collins  (a  period  after  w^«, 
no  mark  after  Zara)  changes  the  sense.  Both  original  editions  have 
commas  after  won  and  Zara,  indicating  that  she  is  the  subject  of  will  be 
undone,  and  Zara  in  apposition  with  s/ie  ;  while  love  is  the  subject,  not  the 
object,  of  won,  which  has  for  object  "whom"  understood.  The  orig- 
inal punctuation  makes  the  better  sense  :  it  is  rather  because  Zara  loves 
Hassan,  than  because  he  loves  her,  that  she  will  be  undone  by  his  death. 

73.  own'd  the  powerful  maid,  i.e.,  acknowledged  the  power  of  the 
maid. 


ECLOGUE   THE   THIRD.     (17) 

The  source  of  the  motif  in  this  eclogue  is  unknown.  It  is  of  course 
possible  that  Collins  invented  the  story.  Some  have  thought  that  he 
got  the  hint  from  a  Persian  tale  printed  in  The  Free  Thinker,  in  1 7 1 9 
(reprinted  in  Nathan  Drake's  Gleaner,  London,  181 1,  vol.  I,  p.  272), 
but  the  resemblance  is  not  very  close.  Cha-Abbas,  king  of  Persia, 
took  a  great  fancy  to  a  shepherd  lad,  Alibez,  whom  he  met  on  his 
travels.  Alibez  went  to  court,  and  finally  became  keeper  of  the  royal 
jewels.  But  he  still  longed  for  the  pastoral  life  and  once  revisited  his 
early  home.  Under  the  next  king  he  fell  into  disfavor  and  was  ordered 
to  give  an  account  of  his  stewardship.  Accordingly,  he  opened  every- 
thing to  inspection  except  one  iron  door.  When  this  was  forced  open, 
nothing  was  found  but  "a  sheep-hook,  a  pipe,  and  a  shepherd's  habit, 
which  Alibez  had  worn,  all  of  which  he  often  took  a  pleasure  in  visiting 
privately,  to  remind  him  of  his  former  condition." 

There  is  no  natural  connection  between  the  tale  and  evening. 
Apparently  for  this  reason  Collins  wrote  the  introductory  lines,  which, 
though  graceful,  have  no  necessary  relation  to  the  story. 

I.  Georgia's  land.  In  the  days  of  the  Great  Abbas,  Georgia  was  a 
province  of  Persia. 

TefQis'.  Tefflis,  or  Tiflis,  the  capital  of  Georgia,  is  situated  in  a 
plain;  cf.  lezrl green,  1.  2. 

5,  6.  These  lines  were  added  in  the  revised  edition,  no  doubt  to  give 
a  more  distinctively  Eastern  setting,  and  perhaps  also  to  lengthen  the 
introductory  passage,  which,  without  them,  is  abrupt  and  manifestly  a 


17-21]  NOTES.  89 

mere  introduction  ;  the  added  lines  do  much  to  make  the  prelude  a 
pleasing  and  restful  picture  in  itself. 

17-19.  "About  Ispahan  and  some  other  towns  jonquils  grow  wild : 
they  have  also  daffodils,  lilies,  violets,  and  pinks  in  their  season  .  .  .  ; 
but  what  they  have  the  greatest  quantity  of  are  lilies  and  roses."  — 
Salmon,  vol.  I,  p.  332. 

21.  Collins  doubtless  had  in  mind  the  historical  "Great  Abbas," 
during  whose  long  reign  (15S6-162S)  the  Persian  Empire  grew  rapidly 
in  extent  and  power;  cf.  1.  68  and  the  preface  to  the  Eclogues.  The 
real  Abbas,  however,  was  not  at  all  the  amiable  innocent  of  the  eclogue, 
but  a  cruel  though  able  king,  who  put  his  eldest  son  to  death. 

"  Shah  Abbas  enlarged  the  empire  on  every  side  ;  ...  he  encouraged  all  arts 
and  sciences ;  ...  he  was  also  so  severe  against  those  who  are  guilty  of  the  least 
fraud,  that  he  ordered  a  cook  to  be  roasted  alive,  and  a  baker  to  be  baked  in  his 
own  oven,  for  keeping  of  false  weights.  But  with  all  his  virtues  I  find  Shah 
Abbas  generally  charged  with  cruelty,  especially  towards  his  son."  —  Salmon, 
vol.  I,  p.  343. 

31.  Mitford  (in  Dyce's  Collins)  compares  Marlowe's  Hero  and 
Leander,  sestiad  ii,  5  : 

Yet  as  she  went,  full  often  looked  behind. 

And  Dyce  compares  Cowley's  Coitntry  Life,  17-22  : 

Unwillingly,  and  slow,  and  discontent. 
From  his  lov'd  cottage  to  a  throne  he  went. 
And  oft  he  stopt  in  his  triumphant  way, 
And  oft  look'd  back,  and  oft  was  heard  to  say, 
Not  without  sighs,  Alas,  I  there  forsake 
A  happier  kingdom  than  I  go  to  take  ! 


ECLOGUE   THE    FOURTH.     (19) 

The  sense  of  midnight  is  limited  to  the  beginning  and  end  of  the 
poem ;  there,  however,  it  makes  an  effective  setting  for  the  dialogue. 

I.  Circassia,  in  the  days  of  Hossein,  was  one  of  the  northern  prov- 
inces of  Persia,  lying  on  both  sides  of  the  Caucasian  mountains. 

28.  Uyce  compares  the  Georgics,  ii,  404: 

Frigidus  et  silvis  aquilo  decussit  honorem. 

32-38.  Collins  got  the  material  for  these  lines  from  Salmon.  "  Sultan 
Hossein  succeeded  his  father.  Sultan  Solyman,  anno  1694.     This  prince 


90  NOTES.  [31-23 

chose  to  live  an  indolent,  unactive  life  among  his  women  in  the  haram." 
The  consequent  misrule  of  his  ministers  stirred  up  to  revolt,  after  some 
years,  Merewys,  who  "  commanded  four  or  five  hundred  tents  on  the 
utmost  boundary  of  the  Persian  Empire  towards  Usbeck  Tartary."  He 
called  in  Tartars,  Turks,  and  Muscovites,  who,  in  the  license  of  war, 
overran  Circassia  and  other  provinces  for  their  own  advantage.  "  The 
Muscovites  surprised  Derbent  and  Tarki  [cf.  1.  45],  which  lay  next  them 
on  the  west  side  of  the  Caspian  Sea.  .  .  .  The  Persian  ministry  were 
now  in  the  utmost  consternation.  .  .  .  They  came,  however,  to  this 
resolution  at  length,  to  let  the  frontiers  shift  for  themselves." —  Salmon, 
vol.  I,  pp.  318,  319.  The  capital  of  Persia  was  captured  by  the  insur- 
gents in  1722,  and  the  shah  was  forced  to  abdicate.  In  1.  38  Collins 
evidently  sacrificed  history  to  pathos,  or  else  wished  the  reader  to  see 
the  situation  as  Secander  saw  it. 

49.  tents.  Seats,  in  the  text  of  1742,  was  evidently  a  typographical 
error ;  it  is  corrected  in  CoUins's  handwriting  in  the  copy  of  the  Eclogues 
which  he  gave  to  Joseph  Warton. 

51.  date.     Dale  was  corrected  in  the  same  way. 

56.   Uyce  compares  Pope's  Translation  of  the  Iliad,  xviii,  50: 

And  the  blue  languish  of  soft  Alia's  eye. 

The  ingenuous  Langhorne  comments  delightfully  as  follows : 

"  There  is,  certainly,  some  very  powerful  charm  in  the  liquid  melody  of  sounds. 
The  editor  of  these  poems  could  never  read  or  hear  the  following  verse  repeated 
without  a  degree  of  pleasure  otherwise  entirely  unaccountable :  '  Their  eyes'  bhie 
la7igi<ish,  and  ihoir  golden  hair!  "  —  Langhorne's  Collins,  London,  1765,  p.  132. 

59.  Georgian.  Georgia  was  the  next  province  to  Circassia  on  the 
south,  and  therefore  likely  to  be  next  invaded. 

71,  72.   Mitford  (in  Dyce's  Collins)  compares  the  .r4(?««^,  ii,  705,  706 : 

Dixerat  ille ;  et  jam  per  moenia  clarior  ignis 
Auditur,  propiusque  aestus  incendia  volvunt. 


AN   EPISTLE,  ETC.     (23) 

This  poem  was  pul)lished  in  Decemljer,  1743  (^^^  ^^'^  Gentleman's 
Magazine,  December,  1743,  register  of  books).  In  the  following  year  a 
second  edition,  much  revised,  appeared  (see  p.  Ixxix).  Sir  Thomas 
Hanmer  (1677-1746)  was  Speaker  of  the  House  of  Commons  in  1714- 


23-27]  NOTES.  91 

171 5  ;  retired  from  political  life  in  1727  ;  in  1743-1744  brought  out  his 
edition  of  Shakspere,  in  six  volumes,  which  by  no  means  deserves  the 
praise  Collins  lavishes  upon  it. 

5.  ^QVi!cA.^=^  hesitation,  springing  from  self-distrust;  zi.  fears  in  the 
text  of  1743. 

5-8.  The  muse  in  these  lines  is  not  the  same  muse  as  in  11.  1-4 ;  the 
former  was  the  muse  of  poetry  in  general,  whose  are  the  myrtles  bloom- 
ing over  Shakspere's  grave,  while  the  latter  is  the  modest  muse  of  the 
youthful  poet.  .  The  inconsistency  must  be  considered  a  blemish. 

9-16.  Only  in  brevity  and  the  omission  of  the  fulsome  ilattery  of 
Hanmer  is  the  passage  an  improvement  upon  that  which  it  displaces  in 
the  first  edition. 

10.  Science  =  learning.  Collins  ignores  Rowe's  two  editions  of 
Shakspere,  in  1709  and  1714;  Pope's,  in  1725  and  1728;  Theobald's 
Shakespeare  Restored,  in  1726,  and  his  editions  of  Shakspere,  in  1733  and 
1740.  Hanmer  was  much  indebted  to  the  labors  of  his  predecessors, 
and  says  so  in  his  preface  ;  in  fact  Johnson  mentions  as  one  of  his  faults 
that "  he  supposes  all  to  be  right  that  was  done  by  Pope  and  Theobald." 

22.  Phaedra's  tortur'd  heart.  The  allusion  is  to  Euripides's  play  of 
Hippolytus,  more  especially  to  the  early  scenes,  in  which  Phaedra,  wife 
of  Theseus,  is  tortured  by  her  love  for  Hippolytus,  her  stepson,  which 
she  is  ashamed  to  confess. 

23.  CEdipus,  king  of  Thebes,  ignorant  of  his  real  parentage,  had 
slain  his  father  and  married  his  mother ;  on  discovery  of  the  truth,  his 
mother  hanged  herself,  and  CEdipus,  after  putting  out  his  eyes,  became 
a  wanderer  on  the  face  of  the  earth. 

25.  Dyce  points  out  that  the  reading  of  the  earlier  text  is  almost 
identical  with  1.  35  of  Pope's  Eloisa  to  Abelard: 

Line  after  line  my  gushing  eyes  o'erflow. 

27-34.  The  plays  of  Plautus  and  Terence  have  great  merit  ;  CoUins's 
praise  of  Latin  comedy  is  therefore  in  a  general  way  just,  although  no 
exact  comparison  with  Menander  is  possible  since  only  a  few  fragments 
from  the  latter's  comedies  have  survived.  Rome  produced  no  great 
tragic  poet. 

33.  Ilissus'  laurels.  The  Ihssus  flowed  through  Athens,  the  home 
of  Greek  tragedy. 

35.  As  Arts  expir'd,  i.e.,  at  the  downfall  of  the  Roman  Empire. 

36.  The  priests  of  the  Middle  Ages  ought  not  to  be  classed  with  the 
Goths  and  Vandals  as  the  foes  of  learning  ;  on  the  contrary,  amid  the 
dissolution  of  the  old  civilization  the  monks  did  much  to  keep  art  and 


92  NOTES.  [27,28 

letters  alive.  Collins  is  probably  thinking,  however,  of  the  ascetic  and 
dogmatic  spirit  of  the  medieval  church  as  a  whole,  which  was  antago- 
nistic to  the  joyousness  and  free  thought  of  the  classic  world  and  the 
Renaissance. 

37.  Julius.  Julius  II,  pope  from  1503-1513,  was  a  patron  of  art  and 
literature;  he  laid  the  foundation  stone  of  St.  Peter's,  and  was  a  friend 
of  Raphael  and  Michael  Angelo.  The  Renaissance  was  of  course  a 
much  more  gradual  growth  than  this  line  implies,  its  roots  reaching  far 
back  into  the  Middle  Ages  ;  cf.  11.  38,  40  and  the  notes  on  them. 

each  exil'd  maid.     The  Muses. 

38.  Cosmo.  Cosmo  de'  Medici  (1389-1464),  one  of  the  merchant 
princes  of  the  Medici  family  who  ruled  J'lorence  for  many  generatiojis, 
was  a  magnificent  patron  of  literature  and  art. 

Etrurian  shade.      Florence,  which  is  in  old  I'^truria. 

40.  The  soft  Provenfal.  The  troubadours  of  the  south  of  France, 
who  wrote  in  the  Proven9al  tongue,  were  as  a  rule  dependent  for  support 
upon  the  nobles  whose  courts  they  frequented  ;  early  in  the  thirteenth 
century  many  of  them  left  southern  France,  then  impoverished  by  the 
War  of  the  Albigenses,  and  found  a  welcome  in  Italy  and  the  north  of 
Spain.  The  Proven9al  literature  flourished  from  about  the  beginning 
of  the  eleventh  century  to  near  the  end  of  the  thirteenth.  By  his 
manner  of  referring  to  the  troubadours,  Cosmo,  and  Julius,  Collins 
implies  that  their  chronological  order  was  just  the  reverse  of  what  it 
really  was.  This  could  hardly  be  due  to  ignorance  or  carelessness ; 
apparently  it  was  occasioned  Ijy  the  wish  to  pass  directly,  for  purposes  of 
contrast,  from  Proven9al  poetry  to  Shakspere. 

Arno's  stream.     Florence  is  on  the  river  Arno. 

41.  wanton  here  probably  combines  the  meanings  of  sportive  and 
loose. 

42.  love  was  all  he  sung.  This  is  not  wholly  true.  The  poetry  of 
the  troubadours  also  included  didactic  poems  and  tales  of  battle  and 
adventure. 

55.  Johnson.  Ben  JonSon  (1573  •''-1637),  Shakspere's  friend  and 
fellow  dramatist. 

57.  Fletcher.  John  Fletcher  (1579-1625),  who,  partly  in  conjunction 
with  Francis  P>eauniont,  wrote  many  plays  during  the  first  quarter  of 
the  seventeenth  century. 

58.  next  in  order.  Jonson's  first  extant  play  was  acted  in  1598; 
Beaumont  and  Fletcher's  earliest  known  drama  was  printed  in  1607. 

63.  In  his  note  Collins  evidently  alludes  to  this  sentence  in  Dryden's 
Essay  of  Dramatic  Poesy  (the  Scott-Saintsbury  Dry  den,  London,  1892, 


28]  NOTES.  93 

vol.  XV,  p.  346) :  "  They  [Beaumont  and  Fletcher]  represented  all 
the  passions  very  lively,  but  above  all,  love."  In  Collins's  note,  their 
apparently  does  not  refer  to  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  since  only  Fletcher 
has  been  mentioned,  but  to  Fletcher  and  Shakspere.  Dryden,  however, 
nowhere  characterizes  Shakspere  after  the  fashion  of  1.  64. 

64.  This  is  a  hard  saying.  It  seems  almost  incredible  that  Collins,  who 
found  in  Shakspere  the  inspiration  for  his  delicate  song  about  Fidele, 
could  have  meant  what  he  seems  to  mean.  But  there 'is  no  escape. 
The  obvious  sense  of  the  line  is  confirmed  by  rtider  passions,  1.  65,  and 
still  more  by  the  fact  that  throughout  the  poem  Collins  alludes  to  male 
characters  only  except  for  a  necessary  incidental  reference  to  the  mother 
of  Coriolanus.  This  curious  verdict  shows  the  tyranny  of  the  age  over 
the  individual.  It  resulted  from  a  survival  of  the  Restoration  ideals  of 
gallantry  and  sentiment,  which  found  Shakspere  inferior  to  the  more 
courtly  Beaumont  and  Fletcher  in  the  portrayal  of  woman  and  man's 
relation  to  her.  Hence,  in  part,  came  the  greater  popularity  of  the 
latter's  plays  on  the  Restoration  stage,  and  hence,  too,  the  necessity 
which  Diyden  and  his  fellows  felt,  when  revamping  Shakspere,  to 
"  write-up  "  the  love  scenes.  It  should  be  noted,  however,  that  Collins 
is  praising  Shakspere  ;  and  therefore  the  line  should  not  be  taken  to 
mean  that  Shakspere  had  absolutely  no  feeling  for  woman,  —  strange 
praise  for  a  dramatist,  —  but  only  that  his  chief  interest  was  in  those 
"  ruder  passions  "  which  are  characteristic  rather  of  men  than  of  women 
and  are  the  staple  of  great  tragedy.  An  opinion  curiously  like  this  is 
expressed  by  Joseph  Warton  in  an  article  on  King  Lear,  in  The  Adven- 
turer, in  1754.  (See  No.  113  ;  and  the  footnote  to  No.  140,  in  which 
the  article  is  ascribed  to  Warton.)  Warton  says :  "  One  of  the  most 
remarkable  differences  betwixt  ancient  and  modern  tragedy,  arises  from 
the  prevailing  custom  of  describing  only  those  distresses  that  are  occa- 
sioned by  the  passion  of  love.  .  .  .  Shakespeare  has  shown  us,  by  his 
Hamlet,  Macbeth,  and  Caesar,  and  above  all  by  his  Lear,  that  very  inter- 
esting tragedies  may  be  written,  that  are  not  founded  on  gallantry 
and  love."  The  two  friends  may  have  discussed  the  matter  together  in 
university  days ;  and  if  Collins  shared  Warton's  opinion  that  the  con- 
temporary drama  was  enervated  by  excess  of  sentiment,  it  becomes 
easier  to  understand  why  he  laid  such  exclusive  emphasis  upon  Shak- 
spere's  delineation  of  the  "  ruder  passions  "  of  "  man  alone."  Cf.  the 
slighting  reference  to  love  as  a  predominant  motive  in  poetry,  in  1.  42 
and  in  the  Ode  to  Simplicity,  37-39. 

67-74.  "  Collins,  dans  cette  epitre  a  Hanmer,  parle  de  la  poesie  fran- 
9aise,  de  I'art  dramatique  fran9ais  et  de  ses  deux  illustres  representants 


94  NOTES.  [28,29 

avec  infiniment  plus  de  mesure  que  Dryden,  plus  de  sympathie  sincere 
qu'  Addison,  et  plus  de  justesse  que  Pope."  —  Emile  Montegut,  Heures 
de  Lecture  cTun  Critique,  Paris,  1891,  p.  177. 

67.  The  French  drama  reached  its  highest  development  about  half 
a  century  later  than  the  English. 

Hardy,  referred  to  in  Collins's  note,  was  bom  in  1560  and  died  in 
1631. 

71.  Corneille,  the  greatest  of  the  French  dramatists,  was  bom  in 
1606  and  died  in  1684. 

Lucan's  spirit.  Lucan,  the  Roman  poet  (a.d.  39-65),  wrote  the 
Pharsalia,  an  epic  on  the  war  between  Caesar  and  Pompey.  His  style, 
although  uneven  and  bombastic,  is  energetic  and  occasionally  sublime, 
and  had  a  strong  influence  upon  the  style  of  Corneille. 

72.  The  earlier  reading  is  the  better.  Full  expression  and  Roman 
thought  characterize  well  the  amplitude  of  language  and  Roman-like 
hardihood  of  spirit  in  Corneille's  best  tragedies;  whereas  breath" d the 
free  strain  is  conventional  and  vague,  and  he  inspired  merely  repeats 
with  Lucan's  spirit fir''d. 

73.  Racine  (1639-1699),  less  bold  and  energetic  than  Corneille,  was  a 
more  even  and  polished  writer.  The  reason  for  not  mentioning  Moli^re 
probably  is  that  his  plays  are  not  so  good  examples  of  that  "  correct " 
form  which  Collins  is  affirming  to  be  a  characteristic  of  the  French 
drama. 

74.  chaster  than  Lucan  ;  although  it  may  mean  merely  very  chaste. 
75-78.   The  lines  express  the  common  view  of  Shakspere  in  Collins's 

day,  that  he  was  an  irregular  genius,  lacking  art,  but  unequalled  in  vivid 
naturalness  ;  see  Pope's  and  Johnson's  prefaces  to  Shakspere. 

78.  Th'  historian's  truth.  The  emphasis  is  upon  the  lifelikeness, 
not  upon  the  accuracy.  The  second  half  of  the  line  is  a  variant  expres- 
sion of  the  same  thought. 

manners.  "  By  manners  I  mean  whatever  marks  the  characters  of 
the  persons." — Thomas  Twining's  translation  (1789)  of  Aristotle's 
Poetics.     Cf.  The  Manners,  41-52. 

81.  Henry's.     The  allusion  is  to  Henry  V. 

83.  Edward.  Edward  V,  murdered  with  his  brother  in  the  Tower 
by  his  uncle,  afterwards  Richard  HI. 

85.  infant.     This  is  poetical  exaggeration  ;  Edward  was  a  lad. 

87.  The  line  from  Vergil  {Aeneid,  x,  503)  is  quoted  incorrectly  ;  it 
should  begin,  Turno  tenipus.  Tumus,  king  of  the  Rutuli,  at  war  with 
the  Trojans  in  Italy,  has  just  killed  Pallas  and  despoiled  him  of  his 
belt  inlaid  with  gold  ;  and  the  line  contains  the  prophecy,  fulfilled  by 


29-31]  NOTES.  95 

the  subsequent  death  of  Pallas  at  the  hand  of  Aeneas,  that  "  Turnus  will 
see  the  day  when  he  would  give  a  great  sum  to  have  let  Pallas  alone." 

89,  90.   See  King  Richa7-d  the  Third,  v,  3,  1 18-176. 

95-100.  The  lines  seem  to  refer,  not  to  particular  plays  separate  one 
from  another,  but  to  an  Arcadie  composed  of  features  borrowed  from 
all  the  idyllic  plays.  Collins  was  indulging  in  a  species  of  poetical 
landscape  gardening.  Most  of  the  elements,  however,  may  be  traced 
to  their  sources  :  1.  97  suggests  As  You  Like  It  and  The  Winter's  Tale  ; 

I.  98,  A  Alidsunimer-Nighi's  Dream,  although  the  fairies  met  by  moon- 
light, not  twilight  ;  1.  100,  The  l^etnpest,  although  the  time  was  August, 
not  spring. 

104.  songs  =^poetry.  There  would  be  no  propriety  here  in  a  special 
reference  to  the  songs  in  the  plays. 

107,  108.    Cf.  Ode  to  Pity,  31-36. 

108.  Picture  was  formerly  used  as  an  abstract  noun,  where  "  Paint- 
ing "  would  be  used  now. 

115,  121.  It  is  singular  that,  with  all  Shakspere  to  choose  from, 
Collins  should  select  the  subjects  for  both  pictures  from  the  Roman 
plays. 

121.  CoUins's  note  evidently  refers  to  this  passage  in  Spence's 
Dialogues : 

"  And  certainly  what  makes  so  beautiful  a  figure  in  the  finest  poets  might 
deserve  the  imitation  of  the  best  painters.  ...  If  our  Shakespear  can  give  us 
the  struggle  of  passions  in  the  breast  of  Coriolanus,  Wall  might  trace  the  same, 
and  speak  them  as  well  with  his  pencil.''  —  An  Essay  on  Mr.  Popds  Odyssey, 
in  Five  Dialogues,  by  Mr.  Spence,  Professor  of  Poetry  in  the  University  of 
Oxford,  London,  1737,  p.  81. 

126.  destin'd,  i.e.,  by   Coriolanus   to    suffer   the  fury  of   war;    cf. 

II.  123,  124  in  the  text  of  1743. 

127,  128.  The  lines  are  not  quite  true  to  the  spirit  of  Shakspere's 
scene.  Volumnia,  a  genuine  Roman  matron,  is  reserved  and  proud ; 
she  kneels,  but  as  one  who  knows  there  is  compulsion  in  her  supplica- 
tion (see  Coriolanus,  v,  3).  The  earlier  text  was  still  farther  from  the 
truth. 

137.  Cf.  Aefteid,  iii,  445-451  ;  and  vi,  75,  rapidis  ludibria  ventis. 

139.  no  farther  toil  demand.  These  words  are  the  perfection  of 
unconscious  irony. 

140.  just  to  nature,  i.e.,  restored  to  their  original,  natural  condition. 
145.  some  former  Hanmer.     Collins  must  have  known  that,  accord- 
ing to  ancient  tradition,  Pisistratus,  the  tyrant  of  Athens,  was  the  one 


96  NOTES.  [31-35 

who  brought  together  the  Homeric  poems.  Perhaps  he  meant  to 
imply  that  some  unknown  scholar  really  did  the  work  under  the  direc- 
tion of  Pisistratus.  In  any  case,  he  wished  to  flatter  Hanmer  by 
reducing  the  Greek  editor,  whoever  he  was,  to  a  mere  prototype  of  the 
English  editor. 

146.  boundless  is  more  significant  than  the  earlier  reading.  It  sug- 
gests how  much  was  gained  by  bringing  together  these  many  and 
various  poems  into  an  "  harmonious  whole  "  (I.  141),  while  tuneful  is  an 
irrelevant  commonplace. 

147.  his  Athens.  A  graceful  hint  that  Oxford  University  would 
gain  lasting  glory  by  this  work  of  her  son. 


ODES.     (33) 

The  Odes  were  published  as  a  thin  octavo  in  December,  1746,  with 
the  imprint  1747.  For  the  title-page,  see  p.  Ixxx.  "This  Day  are 
published,  Price  i  s..  Odes  on  several  Descriptive  and  Allegoric  sub- 
jects, viz.  [The  titles  of  the  Odes  follow  in  double  column.]  By 
William  Collins.  Printed  for  A.  Millar,  in  the  Strand  ;  and  sold  by  the 
Booksellers  of  Town  and  Country." —  T/ie  General  Advertiser,  London, 
December  20,  1746.  One  thousand  copies  were  printed  :  "  Mr.  Andrew 
Millar,  Dr.  Dec.  15,  1746.  Mr.  Collins's  Odes,  8vo,  No.  1000,  3^ 
shts." — Ledger  of  Woodfall,  the  printer,  from  Notes  and  Queries,  ist 
series,  vol.  XI,  p.  419. 

Pindar's  lines  may  be  translated  thus : 

Skill  to  invent  poetic  phrase  be  mine, 
That  so,  a  worthy  servant  of  the  Nine, 
I  may  drive  onward  in  the  Muses'  car. 
Daring  attend  me,  Power  that  knows  no  bar ! 

The  appositeness  of  the  motto  is  evident.    The  ode  is  an  ambitious  form 
of  composition,  calling  for  boldness,  power,  and  originality. 


ODE   TO    PITY.     (35) 

This  ode  and  the  next  are  companion  pieces.  Both  were  evidently 
suggested  by  Aristotle's  dictum  that  tragedy  effects,  through  pity  and 
fear,  the  purgation  of  these  and  the  like  passions  ;  and  the  drama  is 


35,36]  NOTES.  97 

never  far  from  the  poet's  thought.  The  conclusion  of  each  ode  indi- 
cates that  Collins  was  intending  to  write  a  tragedy ;  cf.  Johnson's  state- 
ment, p.  xviii.  It  was  characteristic  of  Collins  to  offer  up  these  odes 
on  the  altar  of  the  tragic  muse,  as  preliminary  to  a  greater  work  which 
was  never  completed  and  probably  never  begun. 

1-3.   Cf.  The  Passions,  49,  50. 

7.  Pella's  bard.  Euripides  died  in  Pella,  the  ancient  capital  of 
Macedonia. 

The  note  by  Collins  is  inaccurate.  Aristotle's  words  are  :  TpayiKwrards 
ye  Twv  TToiriTuv  (paiveTai  {Poetics,  13,  10)  ;  "he  seems  the  most  tragic  at 
least  of  the  poets."     There  is  no  special  reference  to  Sophocles. 

14.  Ilissus'.  The  Ilissus  flowed  through  Athens,  where  the  plays  of 
Euripides  were  acted  and  where  he  passed  most  of  his  life. 

19.  wren.  The  wren  seems  to  have  been  selected  as  Pity's  bird 
merely  because  of  its  gentleness. 

thy  myrtles.  The  myrtle,  which  in  ancient  times  was  sacred  to  the 
goddess  of  love  and  used  for  wreaths  for  bloodless  victors,  may  appro- 
priately be  transferred  to  the  gentle  goddess  of  Pity. 

20.  gentlest  Otway's.  The  tragedies  of  Thomas  Otway  (1651-1685) 
excel  in  pathos. 

24.  Thy  turtles.  The  turtle  dove,  the  bird  of  Venus  by  reason  of 
its  talent  in  courtship,  may  also  be  claimed  by  Pity  for  its  gentleness. 
Collins  is  creating  a  new  Pantheon  in  these  odes,  and  his  deified 
abstractions  perforce  filch  from  the  old  gods. 

27.  "  In  the  Ode  to  Pity,  the  idea  of  a  temple  of  Pity,  of  its  situa- 
tion, construction,  and  groups  of  painting  with  which  its  walls  were 
decorated,  was  borrowed  from  a  poem,  now  lost,  entitled  The  Temple  of 
Pity,  written  by  my  brother  while  he  and  Collins  were  school-fellows  at 
Winchester  college." — T.  Warton's  letter  to  Ilymers  (see  p.  xi). 

41,  42.  The  lines  are  an  interesting  bit  of  contemporary  criticism 
upon  the  prevailing  intellectualism  and  lack  of  passion  in  English 
poetry  of  the  period. 

ODE    TO    FEAR.     (36) 

4.  Fancy  =  Imagination.  Throughout  the  ode,  fear  as  a  mental 
fact  (for  Fear  as  a  personification  see  note  on  1.  46)  is  not  cowardice  but 
imaginative  and  sublime  apprehension  of  the  terrible. 

5,  6.  The  short  metre  helps  to  convey  the  feeling  of  alarm.  The 
staccato  movement  in  1.  5,  and  the  repetition  of  see  in  1.  6,  contribute  to 
the  same  effect. 


98  NOTES.  [36-38 

7,  8.  The  repetitions  continue  the  impression  of  alarm. 

i8.  near  allied,  i.e.,  to  the  phantoms  of  1.  i6. 

22.  In  the  note  Collins  has  changed  the  case  of  the  Greek  words, 
perhaps  to  bring  the  phrase  into  the  grammar  of  the  English  sentence. 
The  order,  also,  is  changed  ;  Sophocles  wrote  {Electra,  1388),  &<t>VKToi 
lajvci,  "  the  hounds  whom  none  may  escape." 

26.  earliest  Greece.  The  drama  came  comparatively  late  in  the  his- 
tory of  Greece  ;  .(Eschylus,  the  first  of  the  great  dramatists  (cf.  1.  30), 
was  bom  in  52^  B.C.  Earliest  perhaps  is  used,  by  rhetorical  exaggera- 
tion, for  "  early  ";-or  the  comparison  may  be  between  Greece  and  later 
nations.  \ 

31.  ^schylus  fou^t  in  the  battles  of  Marathon,  Salamis,  and  Pla- 
taea.  The  stanza  seems  irrelevant  unless  the  intention  be  to  suggest 
again  (see  note  to  1.  4)  mat  the  fear  invoked  in  the  ode  is  tragic,  imagi- 
native, not  cowardly  :  i^schylus,  so  great  a  master  in  the  apprehension 
and  portrayal  of  the  terrible,  was  yet  a  brave  man. 

34.  later  garlands.  Sophocles  was  thirty  years  younger  than 
.(^ischylus. 

35.  Hybla's  dews.  Hybla,  a  city  of  Sicily,  was  celebrated  for  the 
honey  produced  in  its  vicinity.  Sophocles  was  called  "the  Attic  bee  " 
because  of  the  pervading  grace  and  sweetness  of  his  art.  The  implica- 
tion that  he  left  his  usual  manner  for  a  harsher  one  in  (Ediptts  Coloneus 
is  not  true.  It  is  a  characteristic  of  Sophocles  that  he  harmonizes  the 
terrible  and  the  gracious ;  and,  further,  CEdipus  Coloneus  is  less  stem 
than  CEdipus  Tyra7inus  and  some  of  his  other  plays. 

37.  baleful  grove.  The  scene  of  the  play  is  the  entrance  to  a  grove, 
at  Colonus,  dedicated  to  the  Furies. 

38.  thy  cloudy  veil.     The  voice  spoke  from  out  a  thunderstorm, 
queen.     Collins's  memory  was  at  fault.      It  was  not  Jocasta  but  a 

god  :  KoXd  yap  avrbv  ttoXXA  iro'KXaxv  Seoi,  "  For  the  god  called  him  with 
many  callings."—  GLdip.  Colon.,  1626,  Jebb's  translation. 

39.  son  and  husband.     See  note  on  Epistle  to  Sir  Tliomas  Hannier,  23. 
Translation  of  the  Greek :  "  Now  (when)  no  longer  was  their  voice 

uplifted,  silence  befell.  Then  of  a  sudden  rose  the  cry  of  one  that 
called  him.  So  all  were  struck  with  fear  and  sudden  fright,  that  made 
their  hairs  to  stand  on  end." —  Qidip.  Colon.,  1622-1625. 

40.  once  alone.     Another  error;  see  "  many  callings  "  in  note  on  1.  38. 
46.  weary  lengths  hast  past.     The  excess  of  consonants  and  the 

unintentional  rhyme  are  patent  defects. 

"  lo  seems  to  have  been  the  original  of  this  nymph."  —  Colchester 
edition  of  Collins,  1796. 


38,39]  NOTES.  99 

Why  should  Fear  be  weary  ?  And  how  should  she  "  rest  "  by  behold- 
uig  more  horrors  (cf.  11.  48-52)  ?  The  inconsistency  is,  however,  as 
Mrs.  Barbauld  {Prefatory  Essay  to  CoUins's  poems,  London,  1797) 
pointed  out,  only  incidental  to  a  deeper  one  in  the  very  conception'of 
Fear,  who  is  thought  of  sometimes  as  suffering  fear  and  sometimes  as 
inspiring  it  or  delighting  in  it.  Cf.  The  Passioiis,  17-20.  The  method 
may,  perhaps,  be  justified  on  the  ground  that  the  loss  in  unity  is  more 
than  offset  by  variety  and  completeness  ;  but  the  inconsistency  should 
not  have  been  forced  upon  us  by  a  mingling  of  the  two  conceptions  in 
one  passage. 

51.  The  spondees  at  the  beginning  and  end  of  the  line,  and  the  allit- 
eration in  big  and  beat,  make  the  line  finely  imitative  of  the  pounding 
of  waves  against  a  cliff. 

57-63.  Cf.  V Allegro,  100-116;  A  I\Iidstii)inier-Night''s  Dreatti,  iii,  2, 
381-384;  Hajnlet,  i,  i,  152-155  and  i,  5,  11.  Dyce  also  compares 
11.  60-63  ^^'^'^  Coniiis,  43-46: 

Some  say  no  evil  thing  that  walks  by  night, 
In  fog  or  fire,  by  lake  or  moorish  fen, 
Blue  meagre  hag,  or  stubborn  unlaid  ghost. 
That  breaks  his  magic  chains  at  curfew  time, 
No  goblin  or  swart  faery  of  the  mine. 

59.  thrice-hallow'd  eve.  Apparently  the  reference  is  to  Hallowe'en, 
when  fairies,  imps,  and  witches  are  supposed  to  be  especially  active. 
Cf.  Burns's  Hallowe'en. 

70.  cypress  wreath.  Not  here  the  emblem  of  death,  but  Shakspere's 
crown  as  a  tragic  poet. 

71.  The  line  is  imitated  from  //  Fetiseroso,  175,  176  : 

These  pleasures,  Melancholy,  give, 
And  I  with  thee  will  choose  to  live. 


ODE   TO    SIMPLICITY.     (39) 

1,  2.  These  lines  are  the  key  to  the  conception  of  simplicity  through- 
out the  ode  :  it  is  not  a  simplicity  adopted  as  a  manner,  but  the  product 
of  naturalness  and  sincerity. 

3.  warmly  pure,  and  sweetly  strong.  This  simplicity,  being  the 
product  of  nature,  is  free  from  the  coldness  and  weakness  of  a  formal, 
academic  simplicity.     Cf.  11.  45,  48. 


100  NOTES.  [39,  40 

10.  iitZ^XiX^^  decorous,  unpretentious  in  appearance.  Cf.  11.  8,  9  and 
chaste,  unboastfnl,  in  1.  12.  The  conception  is  apparently  an  echo  from 
//  Penseroso,  35,  36  : 

And  sable  stole  of  cypress  lawn 
Over  thy  decent  shoulders  drawn. 

11.  Attic  robe.     Cf.  note  on  1.  21. 

14.  Hybla's.     See  note  on  the  Ode  to  Fear,  35. 

16.  In  this  ode  in  praise  of  Attic  simplicity  the  allusion  to  the  night- 
ingale is  pertinent,  not  only  for  the  reason  implied  in  CoUins's  note,  but 
also  because  the  nightingale  is  preeminently  the  "  Attic  bird." 

18.  sweetly  sad  Electra's  poet's  ear.  The  allusion  is  to  Sophocles, 
one  of  whose  tragedies  is  Electra.  Milton  {Sonnet  viii)  had  used  nearly 
the  same  words,  "  sad  Electra's  poet,"  to  designate  Euripides,  who  wrote 
a  play  upon  the  same  subject.  Sweetly  sad  should  be  taken  with  Elec- 
tra's: in  Sophocles's  play  (11.  147-149)  Electra,  leading  the  chorus, 
mourns  for  her  murdered  father,  Agamemnon,  saying  that  the  plaintive 
niglitingale  is  more  pleasing  to  her  than  such  as  forget  the  death  of 
their  parents ;  see  the  reference  to  the  nightingale  in  Collins's  note 
to  1.  16. 

19.  Cephisus  was  the  largest  river  in  Attica,  flowing  past  Athens. 
21.  thy  green  retreat.     Athens.     The  reference  throughout  stanzas 

3  and  4  is  to  Greek  literature,  as  without  equal  in  simplicity. 

24.  The  period  aftery^,?/,  in  the  original  edition,  has  been  changed  to 
a  colon,  because  stanzas  3  and  4  seem  to  go  most  naturally  with  the 
first  three  lines  of  stanza  5,  although  they  might  be  taken  with  1.  12. 

26.  To  should  be  "  into  "  ;  see  infuse,  1.  27. 

32.  virtue's.  "  Virtue  "  here  has  its  original  meaning  of  heroic  man- 
hood.    The  contrast  is  with  effeminate  love  ;  see  1.  39. 

35.  one  distinguish'd  throne.  The  throne  of  Augustus,  the  patron 
of  \'ergil  and  Horace. 

39.  her,  i.e.,  Rome's.  The  reference  is  to  the  literature  of  medieval 
and  modern  Italy.     Cf.  An  Epistle  to  Sir  Thomas  Ilanmer,  40-44. 

41,  42.  The  thought  is  that  the  natural  advantages  of  Italy  cannot 
win  Ijack  simplicity  to  her  poetry  while  she  lacks  the  more  manly  virtues. 

48.  meeting  soul.     di.  L' Allegro,  136-138: 

Lap  me  in  soft  Lydian  airs, 
Married  to  immortal  verse. 
Such  as  the  meeting  soul  may  pierce. 


41]  NOTES.  101 

ODE    ON    THE    POETICAL   CHARACTER.     (41) 

I.  As  once.  The  second  term  of  the  comparison  is  not  reached  till 
1.  17,  where  thus  is  correlative  with  As. 

regard  =  attention. 

3,  4.  It  is  significant  that  Collins  praises,  not  Spenser  alone,  but  his 
"  school."  The  romantic  school  of  poetry,  he  says,  is  favored  most  by 
the  Faerie  Queene,  whom  he  here  conceives  of  as  also  Queen  of  Poesie. 
On  the  growing  popularity  of  Spenser  in  the  first  half  of  the  eighteenth 
century,  see  Phelps's  Beginnings  of  the  English  Romantic  Movement, 
chap.  iv. 

5.  One,  only  one.  In  the  note  this  one  is  said  to  be  Florimel. 
Collins  had  read  his  Spenser  "  with  light  regard,"  or  had  forgotten  what 
he  read,  for  he  makes  two  mistakes  here.  The  girdle  belonged  to 
Florimel  but  could  be  worn  by  any  one  that  had  "  the  vertue  of  chast 
love  and  wivehood  true"  {luierie  Queene,  bk.  iv,  canto  v,  stanza  3); 
and  at  the  tourney  Amoret,  not  Florimel,  was  the  "  unrivalled  fair  "  who 
alone  of  all  the  ladies  present  could  wear  it  {Faerie  Queene,  bk.  iv, 
canto  V,  stanzas  16,  17,  19).  Possibly  Collins  had  a  theory  that  Flori- 
mel and  Amoret  were  really  the  same  person.  More  probably  his 
remembrance  was  hazy  ;  and  with  characteristic  indolence  he  made 
poetic  capital  out  of  his  very  uncertainty,  and  penned  the  first  couplet 
instead  of  consulting  JVie  Faerie  Queene. 

7.  Cf.  //  Fenseroso,  i  16-1 18  : 

And  if  aught  else  great  bards  beside 
In  sage  and  solemn  tunes  have  sung, 
Of  turneys,  and  of  trophies  hung.  ■* 

8.  love-darting  eye.   Mitford  (in  Dyce's  Collins)  compares  Cotnus,  753  : 

Love-darting  eyes,  and  tresses  like  the  morn ; 

and  Pope's  Flegy  to  the  Memory  of  an  Unforti0iate  Lady,  34  : 

And  those  love-darting  eyes  must  roll  no  more. 

17-21.  The  excessive  repetition  of  to  harms  the  verse  and  somewhat 
obscures  the  meaning. 

17.  Young  Fancy.  Imagination,  the  source  of  all  poetry,  is  forever 
young. 

to  me  divinest  name.  This  was  no  hollow  conventionalism.  To 
Collins,  as  to  Keats,  poetry  was  a  passion. 

18.  whom.     The  antecedent  is  Fancy,  not  7ne. 

19.  cest  =  cestus,  girdle. 


102  NOTES.  [42,43 

/       23-40.  The  most  obscure  passage  in  Collins.      Mrs.  Barbauld  has 
/     expressed  the  thought  as  definitely  as  it  admits  of  expression : 

"  Probably  the  obscure  idea  that  floated  in  the  mind  of  the  author  was  this, 
that  true  poetry,  being  a  representation  of  nature,  must  have  its  archetype  in 
those  ideas  of  the  Supreme  Mind  which  originally  gave  birth  to  nature."  —  Pref- 
atory Essay  to  Collins's  poems,  London,  1797. 

23.  fairy  legends.     The  allusion  seems  to  be  wholly  fanciful. 

29-31.  The  lines  are  not  only  anthropomorphic  but  disagreeably 
suggestive  oi  Jupiter  Afnatis  or  an  oriental  monarch  i^his  seraglio. 

29.  the  lov'd  enthusiast.     Young  Fancy,  1.  17. 

32.  sapphire  throne.  The  blue  heavens  (cf.  vaulted  shrine,  1.  i'^  ; 
but  they  are  the  upper  heavens,  above  the  "  tented  sky  "  (1.  26)  of  this 
world.     Cf.  the  cosmography  of  Paradise  Lost. 

39.  rich-hair'd  Youth  of  Morn.  The  sun.  Cf.  the  Greek  concep- 
tion of  the  youthful  Apollo,  god  of  the  sun  ;  al8o->2i'E?  P\ierie  Queene, 
bk.  i,  canto  v,  stanza  2 : 

And  Phoebus,  fresh  as  brydegrome^to  his  mate. 
Came  dauncing  forth,  shaking  his  deawie  hayre. 
And  hurl'd  his  glistring  h)eams  through  gloomy  ayre, 

40.  subject  =  lying  under. 

was.     One  of  Collins's  few  slips  in  grammar. 

41-50.  Collins's  conception  of  poetry  is  significant.  Poetry  is  free 
from  the  evil  passions  ;  is  full  of  wonder,  sublimity,  and  truth  ;  employs 
all  the  mental  powers  of  man,  and  even  has  in  it  something  of  the 
angelic  splendor.  Spenser  and  Milton  evidently  were  the  poets  chiefly 
in  mind  ;  cf.  the  references  to  them  at  the  beginning  and  end  of  the  poem. 

46.  tarsel's.     The  male  falcon. 

54.  this  hallow'd  work.     The  cestus.     See  11.  5,  6,  17-21. 

55.  High  on  some  cliff  goes  grammatically  with  /  view  that  oak, 
1.  63.  The  cliff  is  of  course  a  symbol  of  Milton's  poetry,  and  even  the 
details  are  symbolic  ;  see  especially  11.  56,  58,  59,  62. 

57.  tangled.  A  bold  and  picturesque  word  in  this  application.  It 
suggests  the  rugged,  irregular  contour  of  the  cliff,  whose  shadows  seem 
to  lie  in  confusion  along  its  sides  and  around  its  base. 

jealous  steep,  i.e.,  overhanging  the  valleys  and  apparently  trying  to 
seclude  them  from  view.     Cf.  E Allegro,  6 : 

Where  brooding  Darkness  spreads  his  jealous  wings. 

60.  In  its  condensed  richness  the  line  reminds  one  of  Milton's  early 
manner. 


43]  NOTES.  103 

63.  that  oaK.     An  allusion  to  //  Penseroso,  59,  60 : 

While  Cynthia  checks  her  dragon  yoke 
Gently  o'er  th'  accustomed  oak. 

66.  spher'd  in  heav'n,  i.e.,  in  one  of  the  spheres  in  which  the  heavenly 
bodies,  according  to  the  Ptolemaic  astronomy,  are  fixed.    Cf.  Comus,  2-4: 

where  those  immortal  shapes 
Of  bright  aerial  spirits  live  insphered 
In  regions  mild. 

69.  Waller's  myrtle  shades.  The  best  poems  of  Edmund  Waller 
(1605-1687)  are  his  love  poems,  which  in  CoUins's  day  were  highly 
esteemed  for  their  sweetness  of  versification.  "  Well-placing  of  words, 
for  the  sweetness  of  pronunciation,  was  not  known  till  Mr.  Waller 
introduced  it."  —  Dryden's  Defence  of  the  Epilogue  (the  Scott-Saintsbury 
Dryden,  London,  1892,  vol.  IV,  p.  233). 

And  praise  the  easy  vigour  of  a  line, 

Where  Denham's  strength  and  Waller's  sweetness  join. 

—  Pope's  Essay  on  Criticism^  360,  361. 

CoUins's  preference  for  the  more  sublime  and  rugged  poetry  of 
Milton  is  one  more  proof  of  his  dissatisfaction  with  the  literary  ideals  of 
his  time. 

72.  one  alone.     Milton.     Cf.  1.  5. 


ODE  WRITTEN  IN  THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  YEAR  1746. 

At  the  battle  of  Fontenoy,  May  11,  1745,  in  the  War  of  the  Austrian 
Succession,  the  English  soldiers  with  dogged  courage  exposed  them- 
selves to  a  terrible  fire,  and  their  column  was  torn  in  pieces.  At 
Preston  Pans,  September  21,  1745,  and  at  Falkirk,  January  17,  1746,  the 
English  troops  were  defeated  by  the  forces  of  the  Young  Pretender 
(grandson  of  James  II),  who  claimed  the  throne  of  Great  Britain.  The 
ode  may  commemorate  the  English  who  fell  in  all  these  engagements. 
It  seems,  however,  to  have  been  occasioned  by  a  particular  and  recent 
battle,  and  the  second  part  of  the  title  would  point  to  the  battle  of  Fal- 
kirk. But  in  Dodsley's  Collection  of  Poems,  1748,  in  which  the  ode  was 
reprinted,  it  immediately  followed  the  Ode  to  a  Lady,  which  was  there 
said  to   have   been   "written  May,  1745";   and   the   second   ode   was 


104  NOTES.  [43,  44 

announced  as  "  written  in  the  same  year."  If  this  date  is  correct,  the 
poem  probably  refers  to  the  heroes  of  Fontenoy  only.  But  the  date 
appears  to  be  an  unauthorized  change  or  a  careless  mistake  ;  it  contra- 
dicts the  date  given  by  Collins  in  1746,  when  he  surely  would  not  have 
dated  it  so  definitely,  "  in  the  beginning  of  the  year  1 746,"  unless  his 
memory  had  been  clear  upon  the  point. 

The  variant  readings  in  lines  5,  7,  8  in  some  editions  are  without 
authority. 

"  The  following  stanzas  are  almost  unrivalled  in  the  combination  of 
poetry  with  painting,  pathos  with  fancy,  grandeur  with  simplicity,  and 
romance  with  reality."  —  James  Montgomery,  Introductory  Essay  to  the 
Christian  Psalmist,  1825,  p.  xi. 


ODE   TO    MERCY.     (44) 

Dyce  compares  with  the  strophe  Phineas  Fletcher's  Purple  Island, 
canto  vi,  stanza  16: 

But  see,  how,  twixt  her  sister  and  her  sire, 

Soft-hearted  Mercy  sweetly  interposing, 
Settles  her  panting  breast  against  his  fire, 

Pleading  for  grace,  and  chains  of  death  unloosing: 
Hark!  from  her  lips  the  melting  honey  flows; 
The  striking  Thunderer  recalls  his  blows, 
And  every  armed  soldier  down  his  weapon  throws. 

A  writer  in  The  London  Magazine,  July,  1S21,  compares  Statius's 
Thebais,  iii,  261-265. 

Fervidus  in  laevum  torquet  Gradivus  habenas, 
Jamque  iter  extremum,  coelique  abrupta  tenebat, 
Cum  Venus  ante  ipsos  nulla  formidine  gressum 
Figit  equos  :  cessere  retro,  jam  jamque  rigentes 
Suppliciter  posuere  jubas. 

7-10.  Cf.  Joseph  Warton's  prose  sketch  of  the  Passions  (see  p. 
iiS):  "She  [Pity]  frequents  fields  of  battle,  protects  the  slain,  and 
stanches  their  wounds  with  her  veil  and  hair." 

8.  godlike  chiefs  alone.  Probably  a  compliment  was  intended  for 
William,  Duke  of  Cumberland,  younger  son  of  George  II,  who  was 
very  popular  at  this  time.  Horace  Walpole  wrote  of  him,  after  the 
battle  of  Fontenoy,  "  All  the  letters  are  full  of  the  Duke's  humanity  and 
bravery." —  IValpolc^s  Letters,  May  24,  1745. 


44,  4;,]  •  NOTES.  105 

15.  The  Fiend  of  Nature.  Apparently  not  War,  but  a  principle  of 
evil  prompting  man  to  war  and  other  cruel  deeds.  The  conception  is 
vague;  the  phrase  recalls  the  Ode  to  Fear,  18,  19,  but  nature  must  here 
include  human  nature  as  well  as  physical. 

join'd  his  yoke,  i.e.,  yoked  his  steeds. 

16.  The  allusion  is  apparently  to  the  invasion  of  Cheat  Britain  by  the 
Young  Pretender. 

17-22.  The  lines  seem  to  refer  to-  the  dispersal  of  the  Pretender's 
army  by  the  battle  of  Culloden,  April  16,  1746,  and  the  consequent 
deliverance  of  Great  Britain  from  the  horrors  of  civil  war.  The  picture 
might  well  have  been  suggested  by  the  famous  story  that  Attila,  on  his 
way  to  sack  Rome,  was  met  by  Pope  Leo  the  Great  and  persuaded  to 
turn  back. 

26.  queen  is  predicate  nominative  after  ride. 


ODE    TO    LIBERTY.     (45) 

3-6.  The  tradition  is  that  the  Spartans  before  entering  battle  combed 
and  adorned  their  locks  as  for  a  festival.  Probaljly  there  is  in  the  lines 
a  special  reference  to  the  fight  at  Thermopylae,  where,  it  is  said, 
the  scouts  of  the  Persians,  peering  into  the  narrow  pass  before  the 
battle,  were  amazed  and  awed  to  see  the  little  band  of  Spartans  gaily 
combing  their  long  hair. 

4.  "  On  ceremonious  occasions  the  Spartans  used  to  adorn  their 
heads  with  hyacinthine  chaplets.  [See  Theocritus,  Idyl  18.]  This 
custom  probably  suggested  the  comparison."  —  Colchester  edition  of 
Collins,  1796. 

sullen  hue.  The  classic  hyacinth  was  dark-colored.  Mitford  (in 
Dyce's  Collins)  compares  Frtideiitii  Car7nina,  p.  492,  ed.  Delph.  :  Et 
ferrugineo  vernantes  flore  coronas. 

5.  \\xiMQ^=  manhood,  valor. 

7.  Alcaeus.  The  poem  cjuoted  is  a  banquet  song,  preserved  in 
Athenaeus.  There  is  nothing  to  show  that  it  is  a  fragment.  Collins 
omitted  si.x  lines,  two  after  1.  2,  two  after  1.  4,  and  two  at  the  end. 
There  is  authority  for  oviru.,  1.  3  ;  but  ov  t'l  vov  makes  better  sense 
and  metre,  and  is  adopted  in  the  translation  below.  By  ITesychius  the 
lines  are  attributed  to  Callistratus,  not  to  Alcaeus.  Certainly  the 
Lesbian  Alcaeus,  who  flourished  about  600  B.C.,  did  not  celebrate 
the  assassination  of  Ilipparchus  at  Athens  in  514.  The  metre  is  not 
even  the  so-called  Alcaic  verse. 


106  NOTES.  •  [45,46 

Translation,  including  the  omitted  lines : 

In  bough  of  myrtle  I  my  sword  will  carry, 
As  did  Harmodius  and  Aristogiton 
That  day  the  twain  struck  down  the  tyrant, 
And  gave  Athenians  equal  rights  of  freemen. 

Harmodius  dear,  thou  hadst  no  part  in  dying, 
But  in  the  Blessed  Isles  men  say  thou  bidest, 
Where  dwell  (men  say)  the  fleet  Achilles 
And  Diomedes,  noble  son  of  Tydeus. 

In  bough  of  myrtle  I  my  sword  will  carry. 

As  did  Harmodius  and  Aristogiton, 

When  at  the  festal  rites  of  Pallas 

The  twain  struck  down  Hipparchus  the  usurper. 

Wide  as  the  world  shall  ever  be  your  glory. 
Dearest  Harmodius  and  Aristogiton, 
For  that  ye  twain  struck  down  the  tyrant. 
And  gave  Athenians  equal  rights  of  freemeii. 

9.  The  assassination  occurred  at  a  festival  of  Pallas  Athene,  goddess 
of  wisdom. 

15,  16.  Translation  of  the  note  :  Nay,  let  us  not  speak  of  these 
things  which  made  Demeter  weep.  —  Callimachus,  Hymn  to  Demeter. 

17-25.  The  historical  allusion  is  not  apt.  The  overthrow  of  the  cor- 
rupt and  decadent  Roman  Empire  by  the  northern  barbarians,  although 
an  immediate  blow  to  civilization  and  the  arts,  was  ultimately  a  gain 
for  freedom.  Mitford  (in  Uyce's  Collins)  observes  that  the  image  is 
from  Poggio's  de  Varietate  Fortunae.  Dyce  quotes  Gibbon :  "  The  public 
and  private  edifices  [of  Rome]  that  were  founded  for  eternity,  lie  pros- 
trate, broken,  and  naked,  like  the  limbs  of  a  mighty  giant."  It  does  not 
follow,  of  course,  that  Collins's  lines  suggested  Gibbon's  figure,  but  the 
parallel  is  interesting. 

19.  The  imitative  effect  of  the  line  is  due  chiefly  to  the  caesura  in  the 
last  foot.     Cf.  an  equivalent  device  in  the  Aeneid,  v,  4S1  : 

Sternitur  exanimisque  tremens  procumbit  humi  bos. 

26.  the  least,  i.e.,  of  the  fragments. 

36.  Science  =  Z^ar«/«^,  Liberal  Culture. 

37.  The  Medici  ruled  Florence  by  methods  curiously  like  those  of  a 
modern  "  boss  "  : 

"  It  was  impossible  for  Cosimo  openly  to  assume  the  position  of  tyrant  of 
Florence.  .  .  .     He  managed  to  attain  his  object  by  means  of  the' balie.'     These 


46-48]  NOTES.  107 

magistracies,  which  were  generally  renewed  every  five  years,  placed  in  the  ballot 
bags  the  names  of  the  candidates  from  whom  the  signory  and  other  chief  magis- 
trates were  to  be  chosen.  As  soon  as  a  '  balia '  favorable  to  Cosimo  was  formed, 
he  was  assured  for  five  years  of  having  the  government  in  the  hands  of  men 
devoted  to  his  interests.  He  had  comprehended  that  ...  he  who  ruled  men 
could  also  dictate  laws."  — Enc.  Brit.,  9th  ed.,  vol.  XV,  p.  7S5. 

39.  jealous  Pisa.  Pisa  was  annexed  to  Florence  in  1406;  became 
independent  in  1494;  after  several  attacks  submitted  again  to  her  more 
powerful  rival  in  1 509. 

44,  45.  Every  year,  on  Ascension  Day,  the  doge  of  Venice,  with  a 
magnificent  ceremonial,  symbolically  wedded  the  Adriatic  Sea,  throwing 
a  ring  into  its  waters  in  token  of  the  city's  maritime  supremacy. 

47.  Lydian  measure.  The  ancient  Lydian  style  of  music  was  soft 
and  amorous,  suited  to  pleasant  moods  and  subjects.     Cf.  L' Allegro, 

135.  136: 

And  ever,  against  eating  cares. 

Lap  me  in  soft  Lydian  airs. 

49.  The  republic  of  Genoa,  after  a  proud  career  as  a  maritime  power 
in  the  Middle  Ages,  suffered  many  vicissitudes  ;  it  was  taken  by  the 
French  in  16S4,  and  by  the  Austrians,  with  the  aid  of  a  British  fleet,  in 
the  fall  of  1746.  This  recent  humiliation,  no  doubt,  was  what  Collins 
had  especially  in  mind. 

53.  The  daring  archer.     William  Tell. 

55.  The  rav'ning  eagle.  Austria,  from  whose  control  Tell  helped 
to  free  Switzerland. 

58.  Alva.  The  duke  of  Alva,  the  Spanish  general  notorious  for  his 
cruelty  in  the  Netherlands,  whither  he  was  sent  in  1567,  by  Philip  11  of 
Spain,  to  stamp  out  Protestantism  there.  lie  boasted  that  in  the  six 
years  of  his  administration  he  had  brought  18,000  persons  to  execution 
in  addition  to  those  slain  in  battle. 

59.  The  revolted  provinces  of  the  Netherlands,  through  their  com- 
missioners, offered  Elizabeth  the  crown  in  1575,  which  she  declined. 

68.  cliff  sublime  and  hoary.  An  allusion  to  the  high,  white  clay 
bluffs  of  the  English  coast  where  it  faces  toward  France. 

72.  Orcas.     The  Orkney  Islands  (Latin  Orcades). 

wolfish  mountains.  In  the  Orkneys  the  sea-wall  in  places  rises 
HOC  feet  sheer  from  the  waves,  which  howl  in  the  caves  hollowed  out 
at  its  base. 

75.  her  giant  sons.  "  The  island  was  then  called  Albion,  and  was 
inhabited  by  none  but  a  few  giants.  .  .  .  Among  the  rest  was  one 
detestable  monster,  named  Goemagot,  in  stature  twelve  cubits,  and  of 


108  NOTES.  [48,  49 

such  prodigious  strength  that  at  one  shake  he  pulled  up  an  oak  as  if  it 
had  been  a  hazel  wand."  —  Geoffrey  of  Monmouth's  Historia  Britonum, 
lib.  i,  cap.  1 6,  Thompson's  translation. 

uncouth,  i.e.,  causing  alarm  by  its  strangeness,  a-meaning  that  springs 
naturally  from  unknown,  the  literal  signification  of  the  word.  Strange 
is  doubtless  meant  to  include  the  unnatural  as  well  as  the  unusual. 
But,  at  best,  strange  U7iconth  surprise  involves  some  tautology. 

76.  This  pillar'd  earth,     Britain. 

80,  81.     Dyce  compares  Comics,  21-23: 

all  the  sea-girt  isles 
That,  like  to  rich  and  various  gems,  inlay 
The  unadorned  bosom  of  the  deep. 

82-84.  "  Both  those  isles  still  retain  much  of  the  genius  of  supersti- 
tion, and  are  now  the  only  places  where  there  is  the  least  chance  of  find- 
ing a  faery."  —  Langhorne's  Collins,  London,  1765,  p.  166. 

85.  thee.     Liberty. 

87,  88.  The  thought  is  that  Liberty  parted  England  from  the  main- 
land in  order  that,  after  being  thrust  out  from  Greece,  Rome,  modern 
Italy,  etc.,  she  might  find  a  permanent  home  at  last  in  this  island 
fortified  by  the  sea.  It  is  only  a  poetic  inversion  of  the  truism  that 
Britain  owes  her  independence  in  good  part  to  her  insular  position,  as 
in  t,he  days  of  the  Armada,  when  the  seas  fought  for  English  liberty. 

90.  navel.     Cf.  Comus,  520 : 

Within  the  navel  of  this  hideous  wood. 

91.  Oak  groves  were  the  Druids'  favorite  places  of  worship.  The 
druidic  temple  may  appropriately  be  called  the  shrine  of  Liberty,  for  the 
Druids  took  a  leading  part  in  the  Britons'  resistance  to  Rome. 

93,94.  An  unfortunate  couplet.  Even  a  "  painted  native"  should 
have  known  better  than  to  "  meet  "  Liberty's  "form  celestial  "  with  his 
"  feet."  It  is  a  pity,  also,  that  the  exigencies  of  metre  deprived  7iieet  of 
its  "  to." 

103,  104.  Mitford  (in  Dyce's  Collins^  compares  Dekker's  Wonder 
of  a  Ki)igdom,  iii,  i,  iS  : 

I  '11  pave  my  great  hall  with  a  floor  of  clouds. 

107.  islands  blest.  The  Happy  Islands,  where  the  souls  of  the 
heroic  dead  lived  in  bliss.  See  Lucian's  Vera  Historia,  bk.  ii,  section  6, 
for  the  Classic  conception  of  them  ;  and  for  the  Celtic  conception  see 
A.  Nutt's  essay  on  The  Happy  Otherworld,  in  K.  Meyer's  edition  of 
771  c  Voyage  of  Bran. 


49-51]  NOTES.  109 

io8.  Heb6,  as  the  goddess  of  youth,  may  appropriately  be  coupled 
with  Spring. 

III.  zo\i%QX\.t^=^  in  concert.  The  Druids  were  poets  and  singers  as 
well  as  priests. 

118-120.  Architecture  is  here  sacrificed  to  symbolism,  the  mixture 
of  Greek  and  Gothic  signifying  that  ideal  freedom  ("the  beauteous 
model,"  1.  106)  combines  all  that  is  good  in  ancient  and  modern  states. 

122.  sphere-found  =^foimd  in  the  spheres,  i.e.,  in  the  heavenly 
spheres  of  the  Ptolemaic  astronomy,  "beyond  yon  braided  clouds" 
(1.  103),  where  this  temple  of  ideal  liberty  is. 

128.  A  proud  claim  that  English  freedom  comes  nearest  to  the  ideal. 
Cf.  11.  61-63. 

129-144.  The  passage  contains  several  lines  in  Collins's  worst  man- 
ner; see  especially  11.  131,  132,  141-144. 

133-136.   Cf.  Ode  to  Mercy. 

140.   Cf.  Lycidas,  68,  69  : 

To  sport  with  Amaryllis  in  the  shade, 
Or  with  the  tangles  of  Neaera's  hair  ? 


ODE   TO    A    LADY.     (51) 

The  ode  was  first  printed  in  Dodsley's  Museum,  June  7,  1746.  It 
was  reprinted  in  the  Odes,  1747,  and  in  Dodsley's  Collection  of  Poems, 
1748,  2d  ed.  The  three  texts  differ  considerably.  The  text  of  1748 
has  been  adopted  in  the  present  edition,  except  in  1.  46  (see  note).  In 
1748  Collins  was  living  in  or  near  London,  in  full  possession  of  his 
faculties,  and  it  is  probable  that  the  new  text  represented  his  latest 
revision  of  the  poem.  This  probability  is  greatly  strengthened  by  the 
fact  that  the  changes  are  improvements,  and  especially  by  the  unmis- 
takable Collins  flavor  of  stanza  4. 

"  I  had  lately  his  first  manuscript  of  the  Ode  on  the  Death  of  Colonel 
Ross,  with  many  interlineations  and  alterations.  The  lady  to  whom 
this  ode  is  addressed  was  Miss  Elizabeth  Goddard,  who  then  lived  at 
or  near  Harting,  in  Sussex."  —  Thomas  Warton  (see  p.  xi).  Warton 
goes  on  to  quote  several  readings  in  the  manuscript  which  differed  from 
the  published  texts ;  see  the  variant  readings  marked  "  MS." 

3.  fatal  day.     See  note  on  the  battle  of  Fontenoy,  p.  103. 

13.  rapid  Scheld's.  The  Schelde,  or  Scheldt,  flows  by  Fontenoy. 
The  epithet  rafid  is  conventional  and  incorrect ;  from  source  to  mouth 


110  NOTES.  [51,52 

the  river  has  an  average  fall  of  only  one  foot  per  mile,  and  at  Fontenoy 
it  is  flowing  through  the  flat  country  of  Belgium.  Contrast  Goldsmith's 
Traveller,  2  : 

Or  by  the  lazy  Scheldt  or  wandering  Po. 

19-24.  The  three  forms  of  this  stanza  give  an  interesting  glimpse 
into  Collins's  workshop.  In  the  first  form  the  element  of  grief  for  the 
dead  hero  is  wanting,  or,  at  most,  is  only  implied.  In  the  second  form 
this  element  is  added,  but  in  the  conventional  expressions,  "bath'd  in 
tears  "  and  "  sigh  thy  name."  Freedom,  who  in  the  first  draft  was 
Honour's  superfluous  double,  gives  place  to  "  aerial  forms,"  because 
two  additional  stanzas  are  now  devoted  to  her  farther  on.  In  the  last 
form  the  stanza  is  divided  equally  between  the  ideas  of  grief  and  honor. 
The  superiority  of  the  stanza  in  its  final  form  is  due  chiefly,  however, 
to  the  conception  and  expression.  The  second  and  third  lines  embody 
one  of  those  delicate  and  shadowy  fancies  in  which  Collins  most 
delighted  ;  the  fancy  is  present  in  the  text  of  1 747,  but  not  fully  devel- 
oped. Honour  is  now  conceived  with  more  majesty ;  contrast  "  Impe- 
rial Honour's  awful  hand"  with  "applauding,"  "haunts  his  tomb," 
"  bath'd  in  tears,"  or  "  sigh  thy  name."  The  same  reserve  of  silent  grief 
which  appears  in  "  bend  the  pensive  head  "  is  maintained  in  "  point  his 
lonely  bed,"  and  is  especially  grateful  by  contrast  with  the  Honour  of 
the  text  of  1747,  who  reminds  one  of  the  conventional  maudlin  lover. 
There  is  a  slight  gain  also  in  confining  the  mourners  to  the  vicinity  of 
the  tomb  instead  of  letting  them  "rove  .  .  .  through  every  grove." 
Thy  virtues,  1.  19,  helps  us  to  remember  that  the  ode  is  addressed  "to  a 
lady." 

19.  gt\tvt  =  lan!eiii.     This  use  of  the  word  is  rare  but  legitimate. 

31.  Edward's  sons.  Only  the  eldest  son  of  Edward  III,  the  cele- 
brated Black  Prince,  fought  at  Cressy.  The  others  were  then  children, 
nor  were  they  ever  famous  as  soldiers;  John  of  Gaunt  fought  in  later 
campaigns,  but  was  not  a  competent  general. 

32.  Cressy's  laurell'd  field.  The  Battle  of  Cressy  occurred  almost 
exactly  four  hundred  years  (Aug.  26,  1346)  before  the  Battle  of  Fon- 
tenoy; 30,000  English  defeated  100,000  French,  killing  42,000.  As 
Collins  implies,  the  English  troops  at  Fontenoy,  although  unsuccessful, 
fought  with  equal  courage,  attacking  three  times  in  the  face  of  a 
murderous  fire. 

36.  The  two  stanzas  inserted  at  this  point  in  the  text  of  1747  were 
wisely  struck  out  in  the  next  year.  They  lessen  the  unity  of  the  ode  by 
diverting  attention  from  the  death  of  Ross  and  the  sorrow  of  the  lady 


52,53]  NOTES.  Ill 

to  the  state  of  the  nation.  Collins  may  have  added  them  as  a  compli- 
ment to  William,  Duke  of  Cumberland,  younger  son  of  George  II,  who 
defeated  the  army  of  the  Young  Pretender  at  Culloden,  April  i6,  1746, 
and  freed  England  from  what  threatened  at  one  time  to  be  a  serious 
danger.  The  victory  was  also  an  indirect  blow  to  France,  which  had 
aided  the  Pretender,  and  for  that  reason  was  doubly  pleasing  to  the 
English,  smarting  under  their  defeat  at  Fontenoy.  The  stanza  reflects 
the  universal  feeling  at  the  time  toward  the  young  duke,  whose  popu- 
larity was  immense.      Parliament  voted  him  an  additional  income  of 

;^40,000. 

"It  is  a  brave  young  Duke!  The  town  is  all  blazing  round  me,  as  I  write, 
with  fireworks  and  illuminations." —  WalpoWs  Letters,  London,  April  25,  1746. 

"  Yesterday  at  Noon  the  Guns  were  fir'd  in  the  Park  and  at  the  Tower,  on 
Account  of  the  Defeat  of  the  Rebels  ;  immediately  after  the  Bells  begun  to  ring, 
and  at  Night  there  were  more  Illuminations,  and  greater  Rejoicings,  throughout 
the  Cities  of  London  and  Westminster  and  Borough  of  Southwark,  than  has  been 
known  in  the  Memory  of  Man."  —  The  General  Advertiser,  London,  April  25, 
1746. 

46.  Harting's.     See  Warton's  letter,  p.  109. 

cottag'd.  The  reading  of  the  text  of  1748,  cottage,  seems  like  a  typo- 
graphical error ;  at  all  events  its  use  here  is  incorrect. 


ODE   TO    EVENING.     (53) 

This  ode  was  first  published  among  the  Odes,  1747;  reprinted,  with 
changes,  in  Dodsley's  Collection  of  Poems,  1748,  2d  ed.,  and  in  The 
Union,  1753,  which  was  edited  by  Thomas  Warton  (see  Richard  Mant's 
edition  of  T.  Warton's  poems,  Oxford,  1802,  p.  xxiv).  The  text  of  1748 
and  1753  is  followed  in  the  present  edition.  It  is  improbable  that 
Warton,  an  intimate  friend  of  Collins  and  a  careful  scholar,  would 
have  adopted  Dodsley's  text  unless  the  revisions  had  come  from  the 
hand  of  the  poet.  The  changes  are  in  CoUins's  manner,  and  most  of 
them  are  improvements. 

"  I  know  he  had  a  design  of  writing  many  more  odes  without  rhyme." 
—  J.  Warton,  quoted  by  T.  Warton  in  his  edition  of  Milton's  Poems 
upon  Several  Occasions,  London,  1791,  p.  362  (note  upon  the  translation 
of  the  Fifth  Ode  of  Horace).  T.  Warton  adds:  "  Dr.  J.  Warton  might 
have  added  that  his  own  Ode  to  Evening  was  written  before  that  of  his 
friend  Collins." 


112  NOTES.  [53 

In  these  days  of  painful  searching  for  objective  scientific  standards  in 
literary  criticism  it  is  restful  to  harken  to  the  ever  delightful  Langhorne 
speaking  on  this  wise : 

"  It  might  be  a  sufficient  encomium  on  this  beautiful  ode  to  observe  that  it  has 
been  particularly  admired  by  a  lady  to  whom  Nature  has  given  the  most  perfect 
principles  of  taste.  She  has  not  even  complained  of  the  want  of-  rhyme  in  it,  a 
circumstance  by  no  means  unfavourable  to  the  canse  of  lyric  blank  verse ;  for 
surely,  if  a  fair  reader  can  endure  an  ode  without  bells  and  chimes,  the  mascuUne 
genius  may  dispense  with  them."  —  Langhorne's  Collins,  London,  1765,  p.  173. 

"  The  very  spirit  of  Poussin  and  Claude  breathes  throughout  the  whole, 
mingled  indeed  with  a  wilder  and  more  visionary  train  of  ideas,  yet  subdued  and 
chastened  by  the  softest  tones  of  melancholy." —  Nathan  Drake's  Literary  Hours, 
Sudbury,  1798,  p.  391. 

"  The  ode  is  not  so  much  to  be  read  like  a  poem  as  to  be  viewed  like  a  picture." 
—  Robert  A.  Willmott,  in  his  edition  of  Collins,  London,  1854. 

It  is  interesting  to  compare  Joseph  Warton's  To  Evening,  published 
in  the  same  month  : 

Hail  meek-ey'd  maiden,  clad  in  sober  grey. 
Whose  soft  approach  the  weary  woodman  loves, 
As  homeward  bent  to  kiss  his  prattling  babes, 
He  jocund  whistles  thro'  the  twilight  groves. 

When  Phoebus  sinks  behind  the  gilded  hills. 
You  lightly  o'er  the  misty  meadows  walk, 
The  drooping  daisies  bathe  in  honey-dews, 
And  nurse  the  nodding  violet's  slender  stalk  : 

The  panting  Dryads  that  in  day's  fierce  heat 
To  inmost  bowers  and  cooling  caverns  ran, 
Return  to  trip  in  wanton  evening-dance, 
Old  Sylvan  too  returns,  and  laughing  Pan. 

To  the  deep  wood  the  clamorous  rooks  repair. 
Light  skims  the  swallow  o'er  the  wat'ry  scene. 
And  from  the  sheep>-cotes,  and  fresh-furrow'd  field. 
Stout  plowmen  meet  to  wrestle  on  the  green. 

The  swain  that  artless  sings  on  yonder  rock. 
His  supping  sheep  and  lengthening  shadow  spies, 
Pleas'd  with  the  cool,  the  calm,  refreshful  hour, 
And  with  hoarse  hummings  of  unnumber'd  flies. 

Now  every  passion  sleeps  ;  desponding  Love, 
And  pining  Envy,  ever-restless  Pride 
An  holy  calm  creeps  o'er  my  p>eaceful  soul. 
Anger  and  mad  Ambition's  storms  subside. 


53,54]  NOTES.  113 

O  modest  Evening,  oft  let  me  appear 
A  wandering  votary  in  thy  pensive  train, 
List'ning  to  every  wildly-warbling  throat 
That  fills  with  farewell  notes  the  dark'ning  plain. 

1.  If.     The  conclusion  begins  in  1.  15. 

2.  There  is  some  tautology  in  chaste  and  modest,  but  on  the  whole  the 
line  was  improved  by  the  revision.  In  the  text  of  1747  the  expletive  O 
weakens  the  effect.  Pensive,  as  Dyce  remarks,  was  changed  probably 
because  it  is  used  in  stanza  7 ;  and  it  is  not  so  comprehensive  a  charac- 
terization of  evening  as  chaste.      Cf.   Verses  Written  on  a  Paper,  24. 

3.  "'  Brawling'  was  injurious  to  the  deep  repose  of  the  poem;  while 
the  word  '  solemn '  substituted  for  an  external  fact  a  tranquil  impression 
in  the  mind  of  the  poet."  —  Athenaeum,  Jan.  5,  1856. 

7.   brede  =  braid,  anhroidcry. 
9-14.      Cf.  Macbeth,  iii,  2,  40-43: 

ere  the  bat  hath  flown 
His  cloister'd  flight,  ere  to  black  Hecate's  summons 
The  shard-borne  beetle  with  his  drowsy  hums 
Hath  rung  night's  yawning  peal. 

ID.  leathern  wing.  Dyce  compares  The  Faerie  Qjicer.e,  bk.  ii, 
canto  xii,  stanza  36,  1.  6: 

The  lether-winged  Batt,  dayes  enimy. 

Cf.  the  line  from  the  poem  written  by  Collins  at  school  (see  p.  xiii) : 

And  every  Gradus  flapped  his  leathern  wing. 

II,  12.   Dyce  compares  Lycidas,  28: 

What  time  the  grey-fly  winds  her  sultry  horn. 

24.  flow'rs.  The  change  from  bicds  is  a  doubtful  improvement.  The 
rhyme  with  Hours  is  objectionable;  and  half-opened  buds  seem  just  the 
dormitories  for  elves — the  same  little  creatures  that  in  the  days  of 
Shakspere  and  Nick  Bottom  used  to  "  creep  into  acorn  cups  and  hide 
them  there."  But  the  picture  of  an  elf  curled  up  in  a  flower  fast  asleep, 
during  the  day,  and  tumbling  drowsily  out  of  it  at  nightfall  to  begin  his 
pranks,  is  pretty  enough  for  anybody. 

29-32.  The  earlier  form  of  this  stanza  is  inferior  in  breadth  of  view; 
three  of  the  four  lines  are  devoted  chiefly  to  the  "  ruin."  It  is  inferior 
in  tranquillity  also  (see  luild,  dreary,  and  awful),  and  therefore  does  not 
harmonize  so  well  with  the  central  impression  of  the  poem.  In  the 
later  form,  sheety  is  a  neologism,  and  does  not  please  the  ear  ;  but  it 
does  picture  the  still  and  cool-gleaming  surface  of  the  lonely  lake. 


114  NOTES.  [54-56 

35,  36.  "  Like  him  [Milton]  he  has  the  rich  economy  of  expression 
haloed  with  thought,  which  by  single  or  few  words  often  hints  entire 
pictures  to  the  imagination.  In  what  short  and  simple  terms,  for 
instance,  does  he  open  a  wide  and  majestic  landscape  to  the  mind,  such 
as  we  might  view  from  Benlomond  or  Snowden,  when  he  speaks  of  the 
hut 

That  from  the  mountain's  side 

Views  wilds  and  swelling  floods." 

—  Campbell,  in  his  Specimens  0/  the  British  Poets,  London,  1819,  vol. 
\\  p.  310. 

47,  48.  A  figurative  expression  of  the  fact  that  the  twilight  in  winter 
is  short,  evening  quickly  giving  place  to  night. 

49-52.  The  stanza  is  a  serious  blemish,  especially  as  the  conclusion 
of  so  beautiful  and  delicate  a  poem.  The  second  version  is  the  worse,  but 
either  is  bad  enough.  The  whole  conception  is  conventional,  and  sylvan 
shed  and  rose-lipped  Health  are  stock-phrases.  What  evening  has  to 
do  with  Fancy,  Friendship,  and  the  other  capitalized  ghosts  assembled 
in  the  sylvan  shed  is  not  apparent,  except  in  the  case  of  Peace.  Per- 
haps Collins  meant  to  suggest  that  the  evening  is  the  best  time  for 
writing  poetry,  entertaining  friends,  and  studying ;  but  this  leaves 
Health  unaccounted  for. 

49.  the.  The  change  to  thy  in  the  text  of  1753  was  apparently  acci- 
dental, by  attraction  of  thy  in  11.  51,  52. 


ODE    TO    PEACE.     (55) 

The  ode  was  evidently  suggested  by  the  recent  wars  in  Scotland  and 
on  the  continent   (see  pp.   103,  105,111). 

1-6.  Cf.  the  myth  of  Astraea,  the  goddess  of  justice,  who  left  earth 
for  heaven  at  the  end  of  the  Colden  Age. 

I.    turtles,  i.e.,  turtle-doves,  who  draw  the  chariot  of  Peace. 

5.  The  allusion  is  to  the  invasion  of  Great  Britain  by  the  Young 
Pretender. 

10.  the  turning  spheres.  According  to  the  Ptolemaic  system  of 
astronomy,  the  heavenly  bodies  were  set  in  transparent  hollow  spheres 
having  the  earth  as  their  common  centre  ;  the  revolving  of  the  spheres 
produced  ravishing  music,  too  fine  for  mortal  ear.  Cf.  Milton's  On  the 
Morning  of  Christ's  A'ativity,  45-48  : 


56,  57]  NOTES.  115 

But  he,  her  fears  to  cease, 
Sent  down  the  meek-eyed  Peace : 
She,  crowned  with  ohve  green,  came  softly  sliding 
Down  through  the  turning  sphere. 


THE   MANNERS.     (56) 

This  poem  stands  somewhat  by  itself  among  the  Odes.  Its  title 
would  suggest  that  it  is  a  companion-piece  to  The  Passtotts,  but  the 
likeness  stops  with  the  title.  The  poem  is  more  didactic  and  meditative 
than  lyric.  From  the  subject-matter  it  has  been  conjectured  that  the 
ode  was  written  in  1743  or  1744,  when  Collins  left  Oxford  for  London; 
see  11.  1-6,  19-26,  75-78.  The  closing  lines,  in  particular,  are  full  of 
the  exultation  which  a  man  of  Collins's  temperament  would  feel  upon 
plunging,  with  a  sense  of  newly  acquired  freedom,  into  the  varied  life 
of  a  great  city.  The  style  and  verse  also  suggest  that  the  poem  is 
earlier  than  the  other  Odes,  and  more  nearly  contemporary  with 
the  Epistle  to  Sir  Thomas  Hanmer.  Lines  67-70,  with  the  foot-note 
about  Le  Sage's  death  in  1745,  could  easily  have  been  inserted  later, 
upon  a  report  of  his  decease  —  a  false  report,  for  he  did  not  die  till 
November,  1747,  and  in  Boulogne,  not  in  Paris. 

4.  requir'd  =  sought  again  and  again. 

10-12.  The  thought  is,  that  to  prosecute  such  studies  successfully 
one  must  subdue  passion  and  folly  —  apparently  a  suggestive  bit  of 
autobiography  about  Collins's  student  days. 

13.  porch.  "  The  Porch  "  is  strictly  the  name  for  the  school  of  Zeno 
the  vStoic,  because  he  was  accustomed  to  meet  his  disciples  in  one  of 
the  porches  of  the  agora  at  Athens.  But  the  term  is  used  here  for 
Greek  philosophy  in  general,  with  an  allusion  at  the  end  to  Plato. 

14.  th'  enliv'ning  olive's  green.  The  olive  was  sacred  to  Athena, 
the  patron  deity  of  Athens,  the  chief  seat  of  Greek  philosophy.  Enliven- 
ing seems  to  be  merely  pictorial,  with  no  symbolic  meaning. 

1 5 .  S cience  ==  Philosophy. 

16.  Fancy.  There  may  be  an  allusion  to  the  poetic  quality  in  Plato's 
philosophical  writings,  but  more  probably  the  reference  is  to  philosophy 
in  general  as  not  consisting  of  pure  reason,  spite  of  its  pretensions. 

18.  Plato's  shade.  The  sly  pun  on  "  Plato  "  and  "  Pluto"  is  a  neat 
climax  to  this  passage  of  humorous  criticism  of  philosophy. 

20.  Observance.  This  personification  is  the  stillborn  twin  brother 
to  Opinion  in  1.  8. 


116  NOTES.  [57,58 

29.  The  more  common  thought  is  of  art  as  a  mirror,  reflecting  the 
realities  of  nature.  Cf.  Shakspere's  "hold  the  mirror  up  to  nature." 
Collins,  apparently,  was  led  into  the  figure  by  thinking  of  the  world  as 
a  great  spectacle,  a  phantasmagoria,  in  which  things  come  and  go  inde- 
pendent of  the  gazer's  will,  as  in  the  old  magic  mirrors. 

36.  social  Science,  i.e.,  knowledge  gained  by  mingling  with  society. 

37-42.  It  is  characteristic  of  Collins  that  he  represents  himself  as  no 
sooner  observing  the  real  world  than  wishing  to  retire  and  dream  over 
what  he  has  seen.  The  poet's  sense  for  reality  was  slight.  The  whole 
poem  is  a  dream  of  "  Observation  " ;  there  is  no  real  observation  in  it, 
and  in  fact  it  soon  openly  passes  to  literature.  "  When  he  speaks  of 
studying  the  Manners,  he  had  only  laid  down  his  Plato  to  take  up  Gil 
Bias.'''  —  Mrs.  Barbauld,  Prefatory  Essay  to  Collins's  poems,  London, 
1797.  But  see  the  statement  (p.  xxviii)  about  his  mimicking  the  pecul- 
iarities of  certain  persons  in  London. 

44.  The  introduction  of  Contempt  as  a  spectator,  in  addition  to 
Fancy,  is  very  sudden,  and  is  merely  a  clumsy  device  for  characterizing 
some  of  the  manners. 

45,  46.  white-rob'd  maids  .  .  .  laughing  satyrs.  The  interpreta- 
tion, in  the  Colchester  edition  of  Collins,  that  the  former  are  the  virtues 
and  the  latter  the  vices,  is  more  than  doubtful.  Satyrs  were  gross, 
earthy,  but  not  exactly  vicious.  May  not  "  white-rob'd  maids  "  stand 
for  the  more  spiritual  characteristics  of  men,  and  ''  laughing  satyrs  "  for 
their  more  earthly  characteristics,  merely  natural  and  pleasure-loving 
but  not  necessarily  evil  ?  The  evil  manners  have  been  sufficiently  pun- 
ished already  by  Contempt's  looking  at  them  through  her  glass. 

48.  wild  contending  hues.  In  contending  is  apparently  an  allusion 
to  the  incongruity  which  is  the  basis  of  humor.  IVild  implies  that  the 
humor  referred  to  is  of  a  vigorous  sort,  closely  connected  with  the 
passions  ;  cf.  1.  49. 

51,  52.  Since  humor,  the  thing,  exists  among  all  nations,  the  posses- 
sion of  the  word  "  humour  "  is  no  reason  for  calling  Britain  a  "  favor'd 
isle." 

55>  56.  '  The  image  of  Wit  is  truly  characterized.  The  mingled 
lustre  of  jewelry  in  his  head-dress  well  describes  the  playful  brilliancy 
of  those  ideas  which  receive  advantages  from  proximity  to  each  other." 
—  Colchester  edition  of  Collins,  1796. 

58.  In  laughter  loos'd.  Dyce  compares  the  Georgics,  ii,  386:  risu- 
que  solute. 

59-74.  T.  Keightley  in  Azotes  and  Queries,  3d  series,  vol.  XI,  p.  350, 
pointed  out  that  the  whole  passage  is  an  invocation  to  Nature,  and 


58]  NOTES.  117 

that  consequently  there  should  be  no  full  stop  until  1.  74.  In  the 
original  edition  a  blank  space  intervened  between  1.  70  and  1.  71,  but 
1.  70  ended  with  a  colon ;  modern  editions  have  aggravated  the  original 
error  by  changing  the  colon  to  a  period. 

59.  Miletus.  Collins  fancifully  turns  the  ancient  city  where  these 
tales  flourished  into  the  author  of  them.  The  real  author  of  most  of 
them  was  one  Aristides. 

60.  love-inwoven  song.  The  tales  were  not  song,  but  they  were 
very  much  love-inwoven  and  highly  indecent ;  so  tradition  says,  for  the 
tales  themselves  have  perished.  Collins  follows  Ovid  in  speaking  of 
them  as  songs  : 

Junxit  Aristides  Milesia  carmina  secum. 

—  Tristia,  ii,  413. 

But  a  better  reading  for  ca^-miiia  is  c7-imiiia. 

61.  62.  The  allusion,  apparently,  is  to  the  writings  of  Boccaccio 
{131 3-1 37 5),  who  lived  much  of  his  life  in  Florence,  Tuscany. 

changed,  i.e.,  from  ancient  Italy.     Cf.  Ode  to  Sifiiplicity,  31-42. 

63,  64.  The  popular  notion  was  and  is  that  chivalry,  now  become 
a  sentimental  and  fantastic  anachronism,  received  its  death-blow  from 
Cervantes  (i  547-161 6),  by  his  parody  of  it  in  the  person  and  adventures 
of  his  lovable  cracked  knight  Don  Quixote.     Cf.  Do)i  Juan,  canto  xiii, 

stanza  ix : 

Cervantes  smiled  Spain's  chivalry  away. 

The  real  object  of  Cervantes's  attack  was  not  chivalry  but  the  romances 
of  chivalry,  which  were  still  read  and  admired  and  even  believed  by  his 
countrymen.  Chivalry  as  an  institution  w"as  killed  by  the  invention  of 
gunpowder. 

66.  Castilia's  Moorish  hills.  Valladolid,  where  Cervantes  prepared 
the  first  part  of  Don  Quixote  for  the  press,  is  in  Castile  ;  but  the  name 
of  the  province  may  merely  be  used  for  Spain.  Moorish  alludes  to  the 
conquest  of  Spain  by  the  Moors  in  the  Middle  Ages. 

68.  watchet  =/'«/^  blue  ;  see  blue,  1.  67.  The  color  is  suggested  by 
that  of  the  water  in  which  the  nymphs  live.  Cf.  The  Faerie  Queette, 
bk.  iii,  canto  iv,  stanza  40,  where  the  reference  is  to  sea  nymphs  : 

Their  watchet  mantles  fringed  with  silver  round. 

Dyce  compares  Drayton's  Polyolbion,  song  v,  13  : 

She  in  a  watchet  weed,  with  many  a  curious  wave. 

69,  70.  The  allusion  is  to  the  story  of  Blanche  {Gil  Bias,  bk.  iv, 
chap,  iv),  whose  father,  from  a  sense  of  duty,  compelled  her  to  marry 


118  NOTES.  [58,  59 

another,  although  she  loved  and  was  beloved  by  the  king  of  Sicily  ; 
her  jealous  husband,  mortally  wounded  by  the  king,  stabbed  her  as  she 
held  him  in  her  arms.  "  At  the  time  this  ode  was  written  the  sticcess 
of  Thomson's  Tancred  and  Stgismujida  [1745]  had  probably  made  the 
story  of  Blanche  ...  a  favourite  piece  of  reading."  —  Dyce. 

71.  Nature  boon.  In  the  Aldine  Collitts  the  line  is  wrongly  pointed, 
with  the  comma  after  Nature.  In  the  original  edition  the  comma  stood 
after  boon,  as  the  sense  requires ;  boon  is  here  an  adjective,  meaning 
"  prolific."     Cf.  Paradise  Lost,  iv,  242,  243  : 

Nature  boon 
Poured  forth  profuse. 

Collins  invokes  Nature,  the  bountiful  source  of  all  truth,  to  inspire  him 
as  she  had  inspired  Cervantes  and  the  other  writers  mentioned. 


THE    PASSIONS.     (59) 

WooU  prints  a  prose  sketch  by  Joseph  Warton,  "  laid  out  by  him  as 
a  subject  for  verse,  at  eighteen,"  which  he  thinks  may  have  given 
Collins  the  idea  of  this  ode : 

"  The  subjects  of  Reason  having  lately  rebelled  against  him,  he  summons 
them  to  his  court,  that  they  may  pay  their  obedience  to  him  ;  whilst  he  sits  on 
his  throne,  attended  by  the  Virtues,  his  handmaids.  The  first  who  made  her 
appearance  was  Fear,  with  Superstition,  a  pale-faced,  trembling  virgin,  who  came 
from  Gallia,  and  was  ever  present  at  earthquakes,  fires,  sieges,  storms,  and  shud- 
dered at  every  thing  she  saw.  Not  so  .-^nger,  whose  harbinger  was  Cruelty,  with 
dishevelled  hair ;  and  whose  charioteer,  Revenge,  drove  wheels  reeking  with 
blood.  He  himself  stood  upright,  ijrandishing  a  sword,  and  bearing  a  shield  .  .  .  ; 
round  his  girdle  he  tied  the  head  of  an  enemy  just  slaughtered,  and  his  chariot 
was  drawn  by  tigers.  Next  came  Joy,  chanting  a  song,  crowned  with  vine  leaves, 
waving  a  rod  in  his  hand,  at  whose  touch  every  thing  smiled  ;  he  was  attended 
by  Mirth  and  Pleasure,  two  nymphs  more  light  than  Napaeans:  he  was  the 
institutor  of  feasts  and  dances  amongst  the  shepherds,  at  a  vintage,  at  marriages 
and  triumphs.  Then  came  Sorrow,  with  a  dead  babe  in  her  arms:  —  she  was 
often  seen  in  charnels  and  by  graves,  listening  to  knells,  or  walking  in  the  dead 
of  night,  and  lamenting  aloud ;  nor  was  she  absent  from  dungeons  and  galley 
slaves.  After  her  Courage,  a  young  man  riding  a  lion,  that  chafed  with  indigna- 
tion, yet  was  forced  to  submit.  .  .  .  He  led  Cowardice  chained,  who  shuddered 
violently  whenever  he  heard  the  horn  [of  Courage],  and  would  fain  run  away.  .  . . 
Next  came  yKniulation,  with  harp  and  sword  :  he  followed  a  phantom  of  Fame, 
that  he  might  snatch  the  crown  she  wore :  he  was  accompanied  by  a  beautiful 


69]  NOTES.  119 

Amazon,  called  Hope,  who  with  one  hand  pointed  to  the  heavens,  and  in  the 
other  held  an  optic  which  beautified  and  magnified  every  object  to  which  it  was 
directed.  Pity  led  her  old  father  Despair,  who  tore  his  grey  locks,  and  could 
scarce  move  along  for  extreme  misery ;  she  nursed  him  with  her  own  milk,  and 
supported  his  steps,  whilst  bats  and  owls  flew  round  his  head.  She  frequents 
fields  of  battle,  protects  the  slain,  and  stanches  their  wounds  with  her  veil  and 
hair.  Next  came  Love,  supported  on  each  side  by  Friendship  and  Truth,  but 
not  blind,  as  the  poets  feign.  Behind  came  his  enemies.  Jealousy,  who  nursed  a 
vulture  to  feed  on  his  own  heart ;  Hatred  also,  and  Doubt  shaking  a  dart  behind 
Love,  who,  on  his  turning  round,  immediately  vanished.  Honour,  twined  round 
about  with  a  snake,  like  Laocoon.  Then  Ambition  in  a  chariot  of  gold,  and 
white  horses,  whose  trappings  were  adorned  with  jewels,  led  by  Esteem  and 
Flattery.  Envy  viewed  him  passing,  and  repined  like  a  pard  with  a  dart  in  his 
side.  Contempt,  too,  like  a  satyr,  laeheld,  and  pointed  with  his  finger ;  but  he 
too  often  reviled  Heaven,  whence  plagues,  pestilences,  wars,  and  famines.  When 
these  were  all  met.  Reason  (sitting  grander  than  Solomon),  on  whom  the  man 
Justice,  and  the  woman  Temperance,  attended,  thus  addressed  them."  —  John 
Wooll's  Memoirs  of  J.  IVarton,  London,  1806,  pp.  11-13. 

The  wide  difference  between  poem  and  sketch,  both  in  central  con- 
ception and  in  details,  is  evidence  that  Collins  owed  little  to  his  friend's 
outline.  But  at  a  few  points  the  resemblance  is  striking  enough  to 
make  it  probable  that  he  had  seen  the  prose  sketch  and  took  one  or 
two  hints  from  it.  In  both  poem  and  sketch  Fear  is  the  first  passion 
mentioned  and  Anger  the  second  ;  Joy  is  masculine,  is  crowned  with 
ivy,  is  attended  by  Mirth  and  another  figure  (Pleasure  in  the  sketch, 
Love  in  the  poem),  and  is  associated  with  the  dance;  Love  and  Hate 
are  both  mentioned  in  connection  with  Jealousy. 

T.  Warton,  in  the  note  quoted  in  part  on  p.  in,  says  that  a 
poem  of  J.  Warton's  entitled  The  Assembly  of  the  Passions  was  written 
before  Collins's  ode  ;  but  there  is  no  such  poem  among  J.  Warton's 
published  poems. 

17-20.  Cf.  notes  (pp.  97,  99)  on  the  conception  of  Fear  in  the  Ode 
to  Fear.  Dyce  remarks,  "  Perhaps  he  had  an  eye  to  the  following  lines 
of  Sir  Philip  Sidney  : 

A  satyre  once  did  runne  away  for  dread 
With  sound  of  home,  which  he  himselfe  did  blow ; 
Fearing  and  fear'd,  thus  from  himselfe  he  fled, 
Deeming  strange  euill  in  that  he  did  not  know." 

— Grosart's  edition  of  Sidney,  London,  1S77,  vol.  11,  p.  46. 

26.  sounds  is  either  in  apposition  with  measures  (1.  25),  or  is  gov- 
erned by  "  with  "  understood. 


120  NOTES.  [60-65 

35.  The  suggestion  seems  to  be  that  Hope  needs  to  be  sustained  by 
some  response  from  without. 

36.  her  sweetest  theme,  presumably,  is  love.  Including  this  line, 
the  poem  contains  three  allusions  to  love,  and  perhaps  this  was  the 
reason  why  Collins  did  not  give  the  passion  more  prominence  in  any 
one  place. 

43.  denouncing  =  rt;/«w/;/««_f.  The  Oxford  Ettglish  Dictionary 
gives  an  example  of  this  use  of  the  word  in  17 18:  "An  approaching 
comet,  denounced  through  every  street,  by  the  noisy  hawkers." 

75.  oak-crown'd  sisters.  Wood-nymphs,  attendant  on  Diana  the 
chaste-ey'd  queen. 

93,  94.  Dyce  compares  Paradise  Regained,  ii,  362-365  ;  Paradise 
Lost,  V,  286,  287  ;  Pope's  Eloisa  to  Abelard,  218  ;  and  Fairfax's  transla- 
tion of  Tdisao's,  Jerusalem  Delivered,  canto  i,  stanza  14: 

And  shook  his  wings  with  roarie  May-dews  wet. 

114.   St.  Cecilia  was  the  reputed  inventor  of  the  organ. 
115-118.  Cf.  the  Ode  to  Simplicity  for  a  similar  expression  of  admira- 
tion for  the  simplicity  of  Greek  art. 


ODE  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  MR.  THOMSON.  (65) 

James  Thomson  died  on  Aug.  27,  1748,  at  Richmond.  The  ode  was 
published  as  a  thin  folio  in  June,  1749  (see  The  Gentleinati's  Magazine, 
June,  1749,  register  of  books;  for  title-page  see  p.  Ixxx).  The  poem 
was  reprinted  in  The  Union,  in  1753. 

I.  grave.  In  Tlie  Poetical  Calendar,  December,  1763,  the  reading  is 
grove,  which  has  been  adopted  in  some  editions.  There  is  no  external 
authority  for  this  reading,  and  little  internal.  Druid,  1.  i,  might  suggest 
"  grove,"  but  it  does  not  follow  that  Collins  wrote  ''  grove."  Sylvan, 
1.  4,  need  not  mean  "in  a  wood,"  but  simply  "  rural  ";  cf.  rural  tomb, 
1.  40.  Shade,  1.  8,  might  refer  to  the  burial  grove,  but  the  reference  may 
be  a  general  one  to  trees  along  the  river's  bank.  These  are  certainly 
insufficient  grounds  for  rejecting  as  a  misprint  the  reading  of  the  two 
editions  published  during  Collins's  lifetime.  As  internal  evidence  in 
favor  of  grave  see  11.  31,  32,  and  1.  44,  which  is  evidently  meant  to  be  a 
repetition  of  1.  i. 

druid.  The  appropriateness  of  this  designation  for  the  poet  of 
nature  is  obvious.     Cf.    Woodland  Pilgrim's,  1.   12. 


65-67]  NOTES.  121 

6.  harp.     See  llie  Castle  of  Indolence,  canto  i,  stanzas  40,  41. 

19.  whit'ning  spire.  "  Nor  does  there  seem  to  be  any  local  acquaint- 
ance with  the  scenery,  for  the  church  of  Richmond  is  not  white  nor  a 
spire,  nor  can  it  be  seen  from  the  river."  —  Mrs.  Barbauld,  Prefatory 
Essay  to  Collins's  poems,  London,  1797. 

21.  earthy.  In  Langhorne's  Collins,  iw  1765,  the  word  was  changed, 
apparently  by  a  typographical  error,  to  "  earthly."  This  reading,  which 
has  no  authority  and  makes  poor  sense,  has  been  reproduced  in  many 
editions  down  to  within  recent  years. 

26.  pale  shrine.  Mrs.  Barbauld,  writing  in  1797,  said  there  was  yet 
no  monument  to  Thomson  in  the  Richmond  churchyard. 

30.  now,  i.e.,  nowadays  ;  in  contrast  with  the  poetical  days  of  old, 
when  water-nymphs  found  cool  lodgings  in  the  Thames. 

31.  Now,  i.e.,  at  this  moment.  The  use  of  the  word  in  two  senses  in 
succeeding  lines  seems  a  slight  blemish. 

38.  early  doom  is  the  language  of  affection  ;  Thomson  was  forty- 
eight  years  old. 


AN    ODE    ON    THE    POPULAR    SUPERSTITIONS    OF   THE 
HIGHLANDS    OF    SCOTLAND.     (67) 

This  ode  has  had  a  peculiar  history.  It  was  not  published  during 
Collins's  lifetime.  The  earliest  public  reference  to  it  is  the  following 
sentence  in  Johnson's  Life  of  Collins,  in  his  Lives  of  the  English  Poets, 
in  1779  •  "  ^^^  showed  to  them  [the  Wartons],  at  the  same  time,  an  ode 
inscribed  to  Mr.  John  Home,  on  the  superstitions  of  the  Highlands ; 
which  they  thought  superior  to  his  other  works,  but  which  no  search 
has  yet  found."  The  manuscript  of  the  poem  had  been  accidentally 
found,  several  years  before,  by  Dr.  Carlyle,  a  Scotch  clergyman,  who  in 
1784  read  it  at  a  meeting  of  the  Royal  Society  of  Edinburgh.  In  1788 
it  was  printed  in  the  Transactiojis  of  the  Society,  with  the  following 
introduction  : 

"  At  a  meeting  of  the  Literary  Class  of  the  Royal  Society,  held  on  Monday, 
19th  April,  1784,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Carlyle  read  an  ode,  written  by  the  late  Mr.  William 
Collins,  and  addressed  to  John  Home,  Esq.  (author  of  Douglas,  etc.)  on  his 
return  to  Scotland  in  1749.  The  committee  appointed  to  superintend  the  publica- 
tion of  the  Society's  Transactions,  having  judged  this  ode  to  be  extremely  deserv- 
ing of  a  place  in  that  collection,  requested  Mr.  Alex.  Eraser  Tytler,  one  of  their 
number,  to  procure  from  Dr.  Carlyle  every  degree  of  information  which  he  could 
give  concerning  it.  This  information,  which  forms  a  proper  introduction  to  the 
poem  itself,  is  contained  in  the  two  following  letters. 


122  NOTES.  [«7 

'  Letter  from  Mr.  Alex.  Fraser  Tytler  to  Mr.  John  Robison,  General  Secretary 
of  the  Royal  Society  of  Edinburgh. 
'  Dear  Sir, 

'  At  the  desire  of  the  committee  for  publishing  the  Royal  Society's  Transac- 
tions, I  wrote  to  Dr.  Carlyle,  requesting  of  him  an  account  of  all  such  particulars 
regarding  Mr.  Collins's  poem  as  were  known  to  him,  and  which  were,  in  his 
opinion,  proper  to  be  communicated  to  the  public.  I  received  from  him  the 
inclosed  answer,  and  he  transmitted  to  me,  at  the  same  time,  the  original  manu- 
script in  Mr.  Collins's  handwriting.i  It  is  evidently  the  prima  cura  of  the 
poem,  as  you  will  perceive  from  the  alterations  made  in  the  manuscript,  by  delet- 
ing many  lines  and  words,  and  substituting  others,  which  are  written  above  them. 
In  particular,  the  greatest  part  of  the  twelfth  stanza  is  new-modelled  in  that 
manner.  These  variations  I  have  marked  in  notes  on  the  copy  which  is  inclosed, 
and  I  think  they  should  be  printed  :  for  literary  people  are  not  indifferent  to 
information  of  this  kind,  which  shews  the  progressive  improvement  of  a  thought 
in  the  mind  of  a  man  of  genius.  [Mr.  Tytler  goes  on  to  say  that  this  is  doubt- 
less the  poem  referred  to  by  Johnson  in  his  Life  of  Collins.  At  Tytler's  sugges- 
tion Mr.  Henry  Mackensie  supplied  the  fifth  stanza  and  half  of  the  sixth.] 

'  I  am,  dear  sir,  yours,  etc' 
'  To  Alex.  Fraser  Tytler,  Esq. : 
'Sir, 

'  I  send  you  inclosed  the  original  manuscript  of  Mr.  Collins's  poem,  that,  by 
comparing  with  it  the  copy  which  I  read  to  the  Society,  you  may  be  able  to 
answer  most  of  the  queries  put  to  me  by  the  committee  of  the  Royal  Society. 

'  The  manuscript  is  in  Mr.  Collins's  handwriting,  and  fell  into  my  hands 
among  the  papers  of  a  friend  of  mine  and  Mr.  John  Home's,  who  died  as  long  ago 
as  the  year  1754.  Soon  after  I  found  the  poem,  I  shewed  it  to  Mr.  Home,  who 
told  me  that  it  had  been  addressed  to  him  by  Mr.  Collins,  on  his  leaving  London 
in  the  year  1749  :  that  it  was  hastily  composed  and  incorrect :  but  that  he  would 
one  day  find  leisure  to  look  it  over  with  care.  Mr.  Collins  and  Mr.  Home  had 
been  made  acquainted  by  Mr.  John  Barrow  (the  cordial  youth  mentioned  in  the 
first  stanza),  who  had  been,  for  some  time,  at  the  University  of  Edinburgh ;  had 
been  a  volunteer,  along  with  Mr.  Home,  in  the  year  1746 ;  had  been  taken  pris- 
oner with  him  at  the  battle  of  Falkirk,  and  had  escaped,  together  with  him  and 
five  or  six  other  gentlemen,  from  the  Castle  of  Down.  Mr.  Barrow  resided  in 
1749  at  Winchester,  where  Mr.  Collins  and  Mr.  Home  were,  for  a  week  or  two, 
together  on  a  visit.  Mr.  Barrow  was  paymaster  in  America,  in  the  war  that 
commenced  in  1756,  and  died  in  that  country. 

'  I  thought  no  more  of  the  poem,  till  a  few  years  ago,  when,  on  reading  Dr. 
Johnson's  Life  of  Collins,  I  conjectured  that  it  might  te  the  very  copy  of  .verses 
which  he  mentions,  which  he  says  was  so  much  prized  by  some  of  his  friends,  and 

'  Recent  inquiries  by  the  present  editor  at  the  rooms  of  the  Royal  Society,  at  the 
University  of  EdinburRh,  and  at  the  home  of  a  surviving  relative  of  Dr.  Carlyle,  near 
Edinburgh,  have  failed  to  discover  any  trace  of  the  manuscript. 


67]  NOTES.  123 

for  the  loss  of  which  he  expresses  regret.  I  sought  for  it  among  my  papers ;  and 
perceiving  that  a  stanza  and  a  half  were  wanting,  I  made  the  most  diligent  search 
I  could  for  them,  but  in  vain.  Whether  or  not  this  great  chasm  was  in  the  poem 
when  it  first  came  into  my  hands,  is  more  than  I  can  remember,  at  this  distance 
of  time. 

'  As  a  curious  and  valuable  fragment,  I  thought  it  could  not  appear  with  more 
advantage  than  in  the  collection  of  the  Royal  Society. 
'  1  am,  sir, 

'  Your  most  obedient  servant, 

'  Alex.  Carlyle.' " 

The  Transactio7is  appeared,  evidently,  toward  the  end  of  March. 
They  were  noticed  in  The  London  Chronicle  of  April  1-3,  1788,  and 
in  IJie  Europeaji  Magazine  for  April,  1788,  which  refers  to  them  as 
"just  published."  A  few  weeks  later  there  came  out,  in  London,  from 
the  press  of  J.  Bell,  what  purported  to  be  a  perfect  copy  of  the  ode  as 
revised  by  Collins.  This  edition  had  the  following  preface  and 
dedication  : 

"  A  gentleman  who,  for  the  present,  chooses  not  to  publish  his  name,  discovered 
last  summer  the  following  admirable  Ode,  among  some  old  papers,  in  the  con- 
cealed drawers  of  a  bureau,  left  him,  among  other  articles,  by  a  relation.  The 
title  struck  him.  The  perusal  delighted  him.  He  communicated  his  valuable 
discovery  to  some  literary  friends,  who  advised  him  to  publish  it  the  ensuing 
winter.  Mr.  Collins,  it  would  appear,  by  his  great  intimacy  with  Mr.  Home,  and 
his  well-known  predilection  for  Spenser  and  Tasso,  made  himself  a  master  in  the 
marvellous  that  characterized  the  rude  ages.  No  wonder,  then,  that  he  paints 
the  superstitious  notions  of  the  North  so  picturesquely  poetical!  By  the  public 
prints  we  are  informed,  that  a  Scotch  clergyman  lately  discovered  Collins's 
rude  draught  of  this  poem.  It  is  however  said  to  be  very  imperfect.  The  Vth 
stanza,  and  the  half  of  the  Vlth,  say  the  prints,  being  deficient,  has  been  supplied 
by  Mr.  Mackensie.  It  has  been  published  in  some  of  these  diurnal  papers  ;  and  is 
here  annexed,  as  a  note,  for  the  purpose  of  comparison,  and  to  do  justice  to  the 
elegant  author  of  The  Man  of  Feeling.  It  is  undoubtedly  pretty  ;  but  wants  all 
the  wild  boldness  of  the  original,  which  is  certainly  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
poems  in  the  English  language." 

"  To  the  Wartons. 
"  Gentlemen, 
"  The  following  Poem,  being  the  long-lost  treasure  of  your  favourite  Collins,  is 
apology  sufficient  for  dedicating  it  to  you.     Your  mentioning  it  to  Dr.  Johnson, 
as  it  was  the  means  that  led  to  the  imperfect  first  draught,  so  it  likewise  was 
the  happy  means  of  bringing  this  perfect  copy  to  light.     If  the  smallest  poetic 


124  NOTES.  [67 

gem  be  admired  by  you,  how  much  more  must  you  exult,  on  being  put  in  posses- 
sion of  the  brightest  jewel,  according  to  your  own  opinions,  of  your  dear  departed 
friend  ?  The  world  will  no  doubt,  in  this,  soon  join  issue  with  you  both,  whose 
talents  do  honour  to  your  country. 

"  Gentlemen,  I  am,  with  great  regard,  your  Literary  Admirer, 

"  The  Editor." 

This  anonymous  edition  came  out,  evidently,  in  May :  it  was  reviewed 
in  The  English  Review  for  May,  1788,  which  was  announced,  in  The 
London  Chronicle  of  May  27-29,  as  forthcoming  on  June  2.  A  second 
edition  appeared  in  1789;  but  the  editor  still  chose  "not  to  publish  his 
name,"  and  it  is  unknown  to  this  day. 

The  anonymous  edition  did  not  escape  contemporary  suspicion,  as 
the  following  quotations  will  show: 

"  A  person, '  who  chooses  not  to  publish  his  name,'  has  been  lucky  enough  to 
find  this  ode  —  after  it  had  already  been  discovered  in  Scotland,  and  published  in 
the  Transactions  of  the  Royal  Society  of  Edinbtirgh  !  The  time  of  this  anony- 
mous gentleman's  publication  renders  his  story  suspicious;  and  the  internal 
proof  drawn  from  his  edition  of  the  ode  will  condemn  him  before  every  literary 
tribunal.  Wherever  his  '  perfect  copy '  departs  from  the  Scotch  prototype  its ' 
inferiority  vs,  perfectly  conspicuous.  This  faber  imus  is  unhappy  in  thus  blend- 
ing his  lead  with  more  precious  metal ;  but  industry  is  a  commendable  quality, 
and  the  editor  might  have  pressing  occasions  for  the  production  of  an  eighteen- 
penny  pamphlet.  .  .  .  We  consider  literary  imposition  in  a  serious  light ;  and 
a  cheat  is  not  less  so  because  he  is  a  bungler  in  his  profession.  Even  should  this 
editor  alledge,  with  the  needy  apothecary,  '  My  poverty,  but  not  my  will,  con- 
sents,' we  must  still  consider  him  as  a  criminal." —  The  English  Rei'icw,  May, 
1788. 

"  This  is  offered  to  the  public  as  a  perfect  copy  of  Mr.  Collins's  beautiful  ode. 
If  it  is,  indeed,  complete,  it  is  to  be  lamented  that  the  e-eidence  of  its  authenticity 
is  withheld  from  the  public.  Surely  the  gentleman,  who  found  it  in  '  the 
drawers  of  a  bureau,'  should  allow  his  name  to  be  published,  and  give  us  the  sat- 
isfaction of  knowing  whether  it  was  in  the  handwriting  of  Mr.  Collins;  which  is, 
certainly,  a  material  question.  .  . .  The  style  [of  stanza  5  and  the  first  half  of 
stanza  6]  does  not  seem,  to  us,  to  be  in  the  manner  of  Collins." —  The  Monthly 
Review,  December,  1788. 

But  the  text  of  the  anonymous  edition  was  adopted  in  Johnson's 
English  Poets,  1790;  in  Anderson's  Poets  of  Great  Britain,  1794, 
although  in  his  sketch  of  Collins's  life  Anderson  expresses  doubt  of  the 
authenticity  ;  in  Park's  British  Poets,  1805;  and  in  Chalmers's  English 
Poets,  18 ID,  although,  oddly  enough,  in  a  note  to  Collins's  life  in  Chal- 
mers's Biographical  Dictionary,  in  1813,  the  reader  is  warned  against  ' 
the  anonymous  edition  as  "  spurious."      The  only  edition  of   Collins 


67]  NOTES.  125 

which  rejected  the  anonymous  text  altogether  was  that  published  at 
Colchester  in  1796  ;  in  this  the  Traiisactiotis  text  is  followed,  except 
that  the  gaps  are  filled  in  by  the  editor  himself.  The  Geneva  edition  of 
Collins,  in  1832,  left  stanza  5  and  the  first  half  of  stanza  6  blank,  but  in 
the  rest  of  the  poem  adopted  the  readings  of  the  anonymous  edition. 
Mr.  Swinburne,  in  Ward's  English  Poets,  vol.  Ill,  with  characteristic 
abandon  speaks  of  the  ode  as  "villainously  defaced  ...  by  the  most 
impudent  interpolations  on  record " ;  yet  prints  in  the  text  many  of 
these  same  interpolations,  ascribing  some,  vaguely,  to  "  the  later  edi- 
tions," and  leaving  others  without  any  mark  to  distinguish  them  from 
the  original  text. 

The  present  edition,  it  is  believed,  is  the  first  in  this  century  to  print 
the  ode  in  its  fragmentary  form.  The  rejection  of  the  generally  adopted 
text  requires  justification,  although  in  the  first  instance  the  burden  of 
proof  lay  on  the  defenders  of  the  anonymous  text. 

It  is  only  fair  to  premise  that  a  revised  copy  of  the  ode  probably  did 
exist  at  one  time.  The  copy  which  the  Wartons  saw  would  naturally 
be  a  revision  of  the  first  rude  draught  made  five  years  before,  unless 
CoUins's  mental  malady,  which  came  on  soon  after,  had  prevented 
revision.  And  there  is  direct,  although  somewhat  suspicious,  evidence 
that  a  perfect  copy  did  exist.  Soon  after  the  ode  was  published  in  the 
Transactions,  there  appeared  in  The  [London]  St.  James  Chronicle^  a 
letter  signed  "  Verax,"  containing  the  following  extract  from  a  letter  by 
T.  Warton  to  Mr.  William  liymers,  whose  papers  Verax  says  he  has 
seen  : 

"  '  In  T754,  I  and  my  brother,  Dr.  Warton,  visited  Collins  at  Chichester,  where 
he  lived  in  the  cathedral  cloisters  with  his  sister.  Here  he  showed  us  an  ode  to 
Mr.  Home,  on  his  return  from  England  to  Scotland  in  1749,  '^'^  o^  the  most 
striking  superstitious  imagery.  It  was  in  his  own  handwriting,  without  a  single 
interpolation  or  hiatus,  and  had  every  appearance  of  the  author's  last  revisal, 
and  of  a  copy  carefully  and  completely  finished  for  the  press.  I  offered  to  take  it 
with  me  to  town,'  etc.  .  .  .  On  the  whole  [says  Verax]  we  may  conclude  that 
the  Edinburgh  copy  is  nothing  more  than  a  foul  and  early  draught  of  this 
composition." 

This  would  be  conclusive  but  for  a  singular  circumstance.  This  same 
letter  by  T.  Warton  was  published  in  The  Reaper  in  1797,  and  reprinted 
in  The  Gleaner  in  181 1  (see  p.  xi);  and  the  reprint  in  The  Gleaner,  at 
least,  does  not  contain  the  passage  about  the  state  of  the  manuscript, 

1  The  letter  cannot  be  found  in  the  files  of  The  St.  James  Chronicle  in  the  Kritish 
Museum,  from  which  several  issues  are  wanting.  The  transcript  in  Dyce's  Collins  has 
been  used  in  this  edition. 


126  NOTES.  [67 

although  it  purports  to  be  the  entire  letter.  Ragsdale's  letter  about 
Collins  (see  p.  xi)  was  very  carelessly  printed  in  The  Gleaner,  and  it  is 
possible  that  Warton's  letter  suffered  even  worse ;  but  the  passage  is  an 
important  and  striking  one,  and  if  it  really  were  in  the  original  its  "omis- 
sion is  very  singular.  Furthermore,  the  two  versions  of  the  letter,  even 
in  the  statements  which  they  have  in  common,  sometimes  agree  ver- 
batim and  sometimes  agree  only  in  substance,  as  the  following  excerpt 
from  the  letter  as  published  in  The  Gleaner  will  show  when  compared 
with  the  above : 

"  The  same  year,  in  September,  I  and  my  brother  visited  him  at  Chichester, 
where  he  lived  in  the  cathedral  cloisters,  with  his  sister. .  .  .  Here  he  showed  us 
an  Ode  to  Mr.  John  Home,  on  his  leaving  England  for  Scotland,  in  the  octave 
stanza,  very  long,  and  beginning,  '  Home,  thou  return'st  from  Thames ! '  I 
remember  there  was  a  beautiful  description  of  the  spectre  of  a  man  drowned  in 
the  night,  or,  in  the  language  of  the  old  Scotch  superstitions,  seized  by  the  angry 
spirit  of  the  waters." 

Some  of  the  changes  in  Verax's  version  may  have  been  made  to 
secure  clearness  in  the  passage  when  wrenched  from  its  context,  as  "  In 
1754  "  for  "  The  same  year."  But  others  cannot  be  so  explained ;  they 
appear  rather  to  result  from  quoting  from  memory. 

This  curious  state  of  things,  taken  in  connection  with  the  facts  which 
are  to  follow,  tempt  one  to  a  surmise  which  in  the  absence  of  proof 
must  be  put  forth  as  a  surmise  only  and  not  as  a  part  of  the  serious 
argument  against  the  genuineness  of  the  anonymous  edition.  Is  it  pos- 
sible that  "Verax"  and  the  anonymous  editor  were  one  and  the  same, 
some  needy  literary  adventurer  recently  from  Oxford,  perhaps,  who 
had  there  seen  Hymer's  papers  .'  Did  he,  as  Verax,  quote  loosely  from 
memory  for  a  few  lines,  and  then  forge  the  passage  about  the  state  of 
the  manuscript  ?  In  brief,  was  the  letter  to  The  St.  Ja/nes  Chronicle  a 
clever  advertising  dodge,  preparing  the  mind  of  the  public  for  the 
appearance  of  the  anonymous  edition  soon  after } 

The  only  bit  of  external  evidence  in  favor  of  the  anonymous  edition 
—  its  dedication  to  the  Wartons,  and  their  silence  —  really  amounts  to 
nothing.  Could  the  two  brothers,  now  in  their  old  age,  be  expected 
to  remember  the  exact  language  of  a  long  poem  seen  only  once,  thirty- 
four  years  before  ?  On  the  other  hand,  the  adverse  external  evidence 
consists  of  several  particulars,  separately  inconclusive  but  cumulative 
in  effect. 

The  times  were  favorable  for  such  a  forgery.  Literary  morals  were 
lax  and  the  critical  spirit  was  comparatively  feeble.     Literary  imposture 


67]  NOTES.  127 

was  in  the  air.  To  mention  only  tlie  more  prominent  cases,  Macpher- 
son's  Ossian  and  the  Rowley  Poems  of  Chatterton  had  appeared  less 
than  a  generation  before,  and  had  met,  for  a  time,  with  encouraging 
success ;  while  a  few  years  later  the  Ireland  forgeries  were  to  be  a  nine 
days'  wonder.  There  was  no  such  presumption  against  literary  impos- 
ture as  obtains  now. 

The  moment  of  the  second  text's  appearance  is  suspicious.  An 
imperfect  form  of  a  poem  by  a  poet  already  famous  is  published  and 
attracts  considerable  notice.  A  few  weeks  later,  just  in  time  to  get  the 
full  advantage  of  this  newly  awakened  interest,  comes  out  another  form 
of  the  poem,  purporting  to  be  the  author's  perfected  copy.  If  the 
second  form  of  the  poem  was  really  meant  for  a  neat  little  stroke  of 
business  by  some  needy  literary  adventurer,  it  certainly  could  not  have 
been  better  timed. 

The  fact  that  the  edition  was  and  remained  anonymous  tells  heavily 
against  it.  If  the  editor  had  a  genuine  document,  it  is  diiificult  to  con- 
ceive why  he  should  lurk  in  the  dark.  On  the  other  hand,  if  he  was  an 
impostor,  the  motive  for  anonymity  is  obvious  ;  awkward  inquiries  for 
a  sight  of  the  manuscript  were  thereby  avoided.  Especially,  why  should 
an  honest  man,  with  good  evidence  of  his  honesty,  persist  in  uttering 
no  syllable  of  defence  after  one  prominent  review  had  called  for  the 
evidence  and  another  had  branded  him  as  a  "  cheat  "  and  a  "  criminal "  ? 
If  the  statements  in  his  preface  were  true,  how  easily,  by  the  testi- 
mony of  his  "  literary  friends,"  the  editor  could  have  established  the 
fact  that  he  had  had  the  manuscript  in  his  possession  months  before 
the  Transactio)is  edition  of  the  ode  was  published.  Or,  if  the  manu- 
script were  in  Collins's  handwriting,  as  would  be  most  likely,  why  did 
he  not  submit  it  to  the  Wartons  for  identification  instead  of  merely 
dedicating  his  edition  to  them  with  politic  flattery  ?  This  is  what  an 
honest  man  would  naturally  have  done  under  fire.  An  impostor  would 
as  naturally  have  remained  concealed.  In  the  first  edition  the  editor 
had  intimated  that  his  secrecy  was  only  "  for  the  present "  ;  yet  even 
the  opportunity  of  a  second  edition  did  not  tempt  him  to  come  out  into 
the  open,  show  his  proofs,  and  refute  his  accusers. 

The  nameless  editor's  account  of  the  finding  of  the  manuscript  is 
suspicious.  It  sounds  like  a  sentence  from  a  cheap  romance.  We 
have  heard  before  of  "  old  papers  "  and  "  concealed  drawers  of  a  bureau  " 
and  obliging  "  relations  "  who  die  and  leave  unexpected  treasures  behind. 
It  is  all  too  vague  for  truth.  Who  was  the  relative,  what  had  been  his 
connections,  by  what  train  of  circumstances  was  it  probable  or  even 
possible  that  one   of  Collins's   manuscripts  could   have  got   into  his 


128  NOTES.  [67 

bureau  ?  Why  is  the  manuscript  not  described  ?  The  preface  suffers 
greatly  if  compared  with  the  actions  and  letter  of  Dr.  Carlyle.  The 
latter  found  his  manuscript  among  the  papers  of  a  friend  who  was  also 
a  friend  of  Home.  He  showed  the  manuscript  to  Home,  who  recognized 
it  as  Collins's.  Later  he  read  the  poem  before  a  learned  society  and 
submitted  the  manuscript  to  a  committee  of  the  society  for  inspection 
and  publication.  These  are  the  words  and  deeds  of  an  honest  man 
with  a  genuine  document.  The  preface  of  the  anonymous  edition  and 
the  course  of  the  editor  are  of  a  different  savor. 

Further,  the  latter  part  of  the  preface  contains  deliberate  falsehood, 
and  is  meant  to  mislead.  The  intention  clearly  is  to  give  the  impres- 
sion that  the  editor  has  not  seen  the  Transactions  text  of  the  poem. 
He  has  been  "  informed  "  by  the  "  public  prints  "  that  a  first  draught  of 
the  poem  has  been  found  ;  it  is  "  said  "  to  be  very  imperfect ;  a  stanza 
and  a  half,  "  say  the  prints,"  are  missing,  and  Dr.  Mackensie's  lines, 
filling  the  gap,  have  been  published  in  "  some  of  these  diurnal  papers." 
The  implication  is  plain  that  the  editor  knows  nothing  of  the  Trans- 
actions edition  save  what  he  has  learned  from  the  daily  papers.  The 
motive  is  obvious.  If  he  has  never  seen  the  Transactions  text,  and 
yet  has  a  manuscript  identical  with  it,  except  for  some  revisions 
and  additions,  his  version  must  be  an  original  and  not  a  forgery. 

Now,  in  the  first  place,  the  anonymous  editor  would  have  had  no 
difficulty  in  getting  the  first  volume  of  the  Transactions,  which  was 
for  sale  in  London  (see  p.  Ixxxii).  And,  furthermore,  the  Trans- 
actions text  of  the  ode,  with  the  introduction  and  notes,  had  been 
reprinted  in  The  [London]  European  Magazine  for  April.  It  is  altogether 
improbable  that  a  gentleman  with  "  literary  friends  "  should  not  have 
seen  the  newly  discovered  ode  which  even  the  daily  papers  were  talking 
about. 

In  the  second  place,  the  anonymous  edition  carries  plain  evidence 
in  itself  that  the  editor  had  seen  the  7ransactions  edition,  for  he  stole 
most  of  his  notes  from  it.  With  a  few  insignificant  exceptions,  such 
as  the  statement  that  glens  are  valleys,  his  notes  on  lines  common  to 
the  two  editions  contain  no  information  not  in  the  notes  or  introduction 
of  the  Transactions  edition ;  and  in  several  instances  the  plagiarism  is 
obvious,  the  more  obvious  for  the  variations  in  the  wording.  The  fol- 
lowing instances  are  but  two  out  of  several  about  equally  conclusive : 


67]                                                  NOTES.  129 

Transactions  Edition.  Anonymous  Edition. 

"  On   the   largest   of  the   Flannan 
Islands  (Isles  of  the  Hebrides)  are  the 

ruins   of   a  chapel.  .  .  .     One  of  the  "  One  of  the  Hebrides  is  called  the 

Flannan  Islands  is  termed  the  Isle  of  Isle  of  Pigmies,  where  it  is  reported 

Pigmies;  and  Martin  says  there  have  that   several   miniature   bones   of   the 

been  many  small  bones  dug  up  there,  human  species   have  been  dug  up  in 

resembling  in  miniature  those  of  the  the  ruins  of  a  chapel  there."  —  Note 

human  body."  —  Note  to  1.  142.  to  1.  142. 


"  The  island  of  lona  or  Icolmkill.  "  Icolmkill,    one   of   the    Hebrides, 

See  Martin's  Description  of  the  West-       where  near  sixty  of  the  ancient  Scot- 
ern  Islatids  of  Scotland.    That  author       tish,  Irish,  and   Norwegian  kings  are 
informs  us   that    forty-eight   kings   of       interred." — Note  to  1.  148. 
Scotland,   four  kings  of  Ireland,   and 
five  of  Norway,  were  interred  in   the 
Church  of  St.  Ouran  in  that  island." 
—  Note  to  1.  14S. 

In  the  second  note,  the  anonymous  edition  follows  the  Transactions 
note  even  in  an  error.  Martin  really  says  (see  p.  134)  that  eight 
kings  of  Norway  were  buried  on  the  island,  which  makes  a  total  of  just 
sixty.  But  the  anonymous  editor,  although  lie  had  only  been  "informed  " 
by  "the  public  prints"  about  the  Transactions  edition,  by  literary 
telepathy  knew  and  adopted  its  mistake  oi  Jive  kings  for  eight,  and 
neatly  condensed  its  false  total  of  fifty-seven  into  the  phrase  "  near 
sixty." 

Of  course  it  does  not  follow  that  because  the  editor  lied  in  one  par- 
ticular he  lied  in  all.  He  might  foolishly  have  tried  to  gain  credence 
by  deception  for  a  genuine  manuscript.  But  his  deceitfulness  in  one 
point  greatly  damages  his  trustworthiness  as  a  witness  on  the  main 
question. 

The  internal  evidence,  on  the  whole,  also  makes  against  the  anony- 
mous edition. 

It  is  a  suspicious  circumstance  that,  with  thirteen  exceptions,  the 
later  text  differs  from  the  earlier  only  where  there  were  gaps  to  be 
filled.  The  exceptions  are  not  only  few  but  mostly  trifling,  such  as 
a  change  from  plural  to  singular ;  and  in  several  cases  they  appear  like 
corrections  of  what  one  man  might  take  to  be  mere  slips  of  the  mind 
or  pen  in  another  man's  work,  such  as  brawny  for  bony  (1.  51),  drooping 
for  dropping  (1.  127),  helpless  for  hapless  (1.  135),  and  scented  iox  sainted 
(1.  164).     Now,  we  know  from  Thomas  Warton  that  Collins  was  "per- 


130  NOTES.  [67 

petually  changing  his  epithets."  Is  it  probable  that  in  this  long  poem 
his  final  revision  of  an  imperfect  first  draught  would  show  so  few  and 
so  insignificant  changes  ? 

As  to  the  quality  of  the  new  readings,  some  are  adroit  and  not  what 
one  would  expect  from  an  impostor.  Such  is  skill  for  stile  in  1.  138, 
a  change  which  was  not  needed  and  which  spoils  the  rhyme.  Was  it 
done  for  a  blind  ?  A  bolder  stroke  is  the  conception  of  stanza  5,  which 
turns  away  from  the  obvious  line  of  thought,  such  as  Mackensie  followed 
in  his  substitute,  and  deals  with  history,  especially  with  the  battles  of  the 
Young  Pretender.  If  this  be  forgery,  it  certainly  is  not  commonplace 
forgery.  On  the  other  hand,  could  a  shrewd  forger  do  better  than 
depart  as  far  as  possible  from  the  thought  in  the  verses  already  supplied 
by  Mackensie,  and  so  emphasize  the  contrast  between  the  admittedly 
fictitious  and  the  professedly  genuine  ?  Hints  for  the  stanza  might 
easily  have  been  got  from  the  Ode  Written  in  the  Beginning  of  the  Year 
1746,  Ode  to  Peace,  and  the  Ode  to  a  Lady,  all  of  which  refer  to  the 
campaign  of  the  Young  Pretender,  while  the  last  contains  a  compliment 
to  William,  Duke  of  Cumberland,  by  name.  (It  may  be  remarked,  in 
passing,  that  Collins  would  have  been  less  likely  to  praise  the  duke  in 
1749  than  in  1746.  At  the  earlier  date  the  duke's  laurels  were  fresh 
upon  him  and  his  praise  was  in  every  one's  mouth  ;  at  the  later  date 
he  had  recently  suffered  defeat  in  battle  and  his  popularity  was  on  the 
wane.)  Furthermore,  just  as  the  Transactions  edition  supplied  the 
anonymous  editor  with  the  material  for  most  of  his  notes,  so,  curiously 
enough,  the  letter  of  Dr.  Carlyle  contains  a  sentence  which  might 
have  suggested  the  subject-matter  for  the  fifth  stanza:  "Mr.  Collins 
and  Mr.  Home  had  been  made  acquainted  by  Mr.  John  Barrow,  .  .  . 
who  .  .  .  had  been  a  volunteer,  along  with  Mr.  Home,  in  the  year 
1746;  had  been  taken  prisoner  with  him  at  the  battle  of  Falkirk,  and 
had  escaped,  together  with  him  and  five  or  six  other  gentlemen,  from 
the  Castle  of  Down."  On  the  other  hand,  it  should  in  fairness  be 
admitted  that  Home's  participation  in  the  war  makes  it  more  probable 
that  Collins  would  allude  to  it  by  way  of  compliment  to  his  friend. 

Some  of  the  new  readings  are  rather  pretty,  and  at  least  two,  those 
in  11.  177  and  213,  have  something  of  Collins's  characteristic  manner. 
But,  as  will  be  shown  soon,  several  of  the  best  expressions  do  not  fit 
well  into  their  places,  and  none  of  them  is  beyond  the  skill  of  a  clever 
literary  adventurer,  such  as  the  editor  probably  was. 

Still  a  third  class  of  readings  are  wretched.  Is  it  probable  that 
Collins  would  have  written,  or  at  least  would  have  let  stand,  in  a  revised 
copy,  such  lines  as  the  following .' 


67]  NOTES.  131 

To  monarchs  dear,  some  hundred  miles  astray, 
Oft  have  they  seen  Fate  give  the  fatal  blow ! 
The  seer,  in  Sky,  shrieked  as  the  blood  did  flow. 
When  headless  Charles  warm  on  the  scaffold  lay  ! 
In  the  first  year  of  the  first  George's  reign. 
Hence,  at  each  picture,  vivid  life  starts  here  ! 

But  argument  from  the  merit  of  lines  is  hazardous,  particularly 
as  Collins's  workmanship,  in  this  poem  and  elsewhere,  is  uneven.  An 
author  is  usually  credited,  however,  with  understanding  his  own  thought. 
If,  therefore,  several  of  the  new  readings  can  be  shown  to  imply  a 
misunderstanding  or  an  imperfect  understanding  of  the  thought,  the 
proof  will  be  pretty  strong  that  the  readings  are  not  from  the  hand 
of  the  author.  Now,  it  is  a  striking  fact  that  in  several  instances  the 
articulation  of  the  new  readings  to  the  context  is  thus  defective. 

In  1.  23  bowl  is  changed  to  bowls,  apparently  because  the  reviser 
thought,  mistakenly,  that  one  bowl  would  not  do  for  "tribes."  But 
in  the  next  line  it  remains  unchanged.  It  might  possibly  be  taken  to 
refer  to  sto7-e,  but  bowl  is  the  more  natural  antecedent.  It  looks  very 
much  as  if  the  anonymous  editor  forgot  to  change  the  context  to  match 
with  his  first  change.  Of  course  the  error  in  revision  might  have 
been  Collins's,  but  he  is  elsewhere  scrupulous  about  his  grammar,  and, 
although  often  involved,  is  almost  never  incorrect. 

In  1.  107,  where  hums  the  sedgy  weed  is  well  enough  by  itself,  but  it 
does  not  complete  the  sentence;  the  verb  which  should  govern  w/z^w 
(1.  105)  and  the  verb's  subject  are  both  wanting.  This  is  not  like  Col- 
lins. Compare  the  Ode  on  the  Poetical  Character,  in  which  the  syntax, 
although  very  complex,  is  very  careful.  Collins  would  never  have  left 
who77i  to  its  fate  when  it  had  straggled  only  two  lines  to  the  rear. 

Line  177,  in  the  anonymous  edition,  is  pretty,  but  it  would  be  more 
appropriate  if  the  reference  were  to  A  Midsummer-Night'' s  Dreatn 
instead  of  to  the  grim  play  of  Macbeth.  This  objection  loses  force, 
however,  \i  fairy  be  understood  in  its  broader  sense,  as  in  The  Faerie 
Qitce7ie,  and  \i  fancy  be  taken  to  mean  "  imagination."  The  more  solid 
argument  is  that  the  inserted  line  does  not  harmonize  grammatically 
with  the  context.  It  should  be  noted,  in  considering  this  point,  that  in 
the  Carlyle  manuscript  there  was  no  blank  space  between  1.  176  and 
1.  178.  The  note  in  the  Transactions  edition  says,  "  There  is  apparently 
a  line  wanting."  Only  by  the  rhyme-scheme  was  the  omission  discov- 
erable, and  perhaps  Collins  himself  did  not  notice  the  irregularity  or 
was  indifferent  to  it;  stanzas  12  and  13  were  also  each  a  line  short, 
while  stanza  2  had  an  extra  line.     At  any  rate,  stanza  11   made  sense 


132  NOTES.  [67,68 

and  was  grammatical  as  it  stood  in  the  manuscript.  There  refers  to 
historic  page  z.nd  goes,  wi'ith.  found.  The  sentence  thus  ran  as  follows  : 
'  There,'  i.e.,  in  the  old  histories  of  Scotland,  '  Shakespeare,  in  musing 
hour,  found  his  wayward  sisters,  and  with  their  terrors  dressed  the 
magic  scene.'  There  was  no  hiatus  in  the  thought,  to  be  filled  in  later, 
as  in  the  imperfect  half-lines  of  the  poem.  Whether  Collins,  upon 
revision,  would  have  inserted  a  line  to  make  the  rhyme-scheme  regular, 
we  cannot  say.  But  if  he  had  inserted  a  line  he  certainly  would  not 
have  done  it  as  it  is  done  in  the  anonymous  edition.  For  by  the 
inserted  line  there  is  wrenched  from  its  verb  found  and  is  left  isolated 
and  useless,  its  place  in  the  new  sentence  being  taken  by  to  those  fairy 
climes.  This  inserted  line  is  not  a  careful  poet's  revision  of  his  own 
work.  It  is  a  wedge  thrust  by  a  bungler  into  another  man's  sentence, 
which  it  rudely  splits  apart. 

For  the  foregoing  reasons  ther  text  of  the  anonymous  edition  is  here 
dislodged  from  the  place  of  honor  which  it  has  usurped  so  long,  and 
relegated  to  the  pillory  of  foot-notes,  where  it  may  be  gazed  upon  by  the 
eyes  of  the  curious. 

I.  H .     John  Home.     (See  Dr.  Carlyle's  letter.)     Home  was  a 

Scotch  clergyman,  a  friend  of  Blair,  Robertson,  and  Hume.  He  came 
to  London  about  the  end  of  the  year  1749,  with  the  tragedy  of  Agis, 
which  Garrick  refused.     It  was  at  this  time  that  he  met  Collins. 

4,  Home's  tragedy  of  Douglas,  after  being  declined  by  Garrick  in 
1755,  was  acted  with  great  success  on  the  Edinburgh  stage  in  1756.  He 
afterwards  wrote  several  other  plays. 

5.  that  cordial  youth.  John  Barrow,  by  whom  Collins  and  Home 
had  been  made  acquainted.     (See  Dr.  Carlyle's  letter.) 

17.  own  thy  genial  land,  i.e.,  acknowledge  it  as  their  country. 

18.  Doric  =  sim/le,  natural;  cf.  1.  33. 

23,  swart  tribes  are  Brownies.  Collins  doubtless  learned  a  good 
deal  about  the  folk-lore  of  Scotland  from  Home  himself;  see  11.  184, 
185.  But  he  probably  had  read,  very  likely  at  Home's  suggestion, 
M.  Martin's  Description  of  the  Western  Islands  of  Scotland,  in  which 
(London  ed.,  1716,  p.  391)  is  a  reference  to  the  Brownie  and  the  custom, 
in  the  Shetland  Islands,  of  rewarding  him  for  his  work  by  pouring 
"  some  Milk  and  Wort  through  the  Hole  of  a  Stone,  called  Browny's 
Stone."  But  Collins  must  have  been  familiar  with  English  folk-lore  on 
the  same  subject,  and  especially  with  Milton's  lines  in  L' Allegro,  105, 106: 

how  the  drudging  goblin  sweat 
To  earn  his  cream  bowl,  duly  set. 

His  indebtedness  to  Martin  is  more  evident  in  later  passages. 


68-72]  NOTES.  133 

24-30.  "  A  Spirit,  by  the  Country  People  call'd  Broivny,  was  fre- 
quently seen  in  all  the  most  considerable  Families  in  the  Isles  and 
North  of  Scotland,  in  the  shape  of  a  tall  Man.  .  .  .  There  were  Spirits 
also  that  appear'd  in  the  shape  of  Women,  Horses,  Swine,  Cats,  and 
some  like  fiery  Balls,  which  would  follow  Men  in  the  Fields.  .  .  .  These 
Spirits  us'd  also  to  form  Sounds  in  the  Air,  resembling  those  of  a  Harp, 
Pipe,  Crowing  of  a  Cock,  and  of  the  grinding  of  Querns:  and  some- 
times they  have  heard  Voices  in  the  Air  by  Night,  singing  Irish  Songs." 
—  Martin,  pp.  334,  335. 

39.   had  =  would  have. 

48.  shiel.  "  A  kind  of  hut,  built  for  a  summer  habitation  to  the 
herdsmen,  when  the  cattle  are  sent  to  graze  in  distant  pastures." —  Note 
in  Transactions  edition. 

57-69.  "  The  Second-sight  is  a  singular  Faculty  of  Seeing  an  other- 
wise invisible  Object.  .  .  .  The  Vision  makes  such  a  lively  impression 
upon  the  Seers,  that  they  neither  see  nor  think  of  anything  else,  except 
the  Vision,  so  long  as  it  continues  :  and  then  they  appear  pensive  or 
jovial,  according  to  the  object  which  was  represented  to  them."  — 
Martin,  p.  300. 

"  Daniel  Dow  .  .  .  foretold  the  death  of  a  young  woman  in  Minginis, 
within  less  than  twenty-four  hours  before  the  time ;  and  accordingly 
she  died  suddenly  in  the  Fields,  though  at  the  time  of  the  Prediction 
she  was  in  perfect  Health."  —  Martin,  p.  321. 

68.  heartless  ^a'/j-wfl'jj't'a';  cf.  1.  58. 

118.  As  a  feeble  anticlimax  the  line  is  curiously  like  1.  20  in  Eclogue 
the  Second. 

121-124.   Cf.  Gray's  Elegy.,  21-24. 

125-132.  Mrs.  Barbauld  compares  Ovid's  Afetamorphoses,  xi,  654- 
658: 

Luridus,  exsangui  similis,  sine  vestibus  ullis, 
Conjugis  ante  torum  miserae  stetit :  uda  videtur 
Barba  viri,  madidisque  gravis  fluere  unda  capillis. 
Turn  lecto  incumbens,  fletu  super  ora  refuse, 
Haec  ait. 

126.  travelPd.     Cf.  1.  122. 

137.  kaelpie's.  "  A  name  given  in  Scotland  to  a  supposed  spirit  of 
the  waters."  —  Note  in  the   T-ansactions  edition. 

142-145.  "  There  are  also  some  small  chapels  here  [on  the  island  of 
Benbecula].  .  .  .  The  Natives  have  lately  discover'd  a  Stone  Vault 
on  the  East-side  of  the  town,  in  which  there  are  abundance  of  small 
Bones,  which  have  occasion'd  many  uncertain  conjectures  ;  some  said 


134  NOTES.  [72-75 

they  were  the  Bones  of  Birds,  others  judg'd  them  rather  to  be  the 
Bones  of  Pigmies."  —  Martin,  p.  82. 

146,  147.  "  At  some  distance  south  of  St.  Mary's  is  St.  Ouran's 
Church  [in  the  island  of  lona].  .  .  .  On  the  South-side  of  the  Church 
...  is  the  Burial-place  in  which  the  Kings  and  Chiefs  of  Tribes  are 
buried.  .  .  .  The  middlemost  had  written  on  it.  The  Tombs  of  the 
Kings  of  Scotland ;  of  which  forty-eight  lie  there.  Upon  that  on  the 
right  hand  was  written,  The  Tombs  of  the  Kings  of  Ireland ;  of  which 
four  were  buried  here.  And  upon  that  on  the  left  hand  was  written, 
The  Kings- of  Norway ;  of  which  eight  were  buried  here."  —  Martin, 
pp.  260,  261. 

155-171.  "[St.  Kilda]  is  the  remotest  of  all  the  vScots  North-West 
Isles  :  It  is  about  two  Miles  in  length,  and  one  in  breadth ;  it  is  fac'd 
all  round  with  a  steep  Rock.  .  .  .  [The  inhabitants]  swear  decisive 
Oaths  by  the  Crucifix,  and  this  puts  an  end  to  any  Controversy;  for 
there  is  not  one  Instance,  or  the  least  Suspicion,  of  Perjury  among 
them.  .  .  .  They  never  swear  or  steal ;  .  .  .  they  are  free  from  Whore- 
dom and  Adultery,  and  from  those  other  Immoralities  that  abound  so 
much  every  where  else.  .  .  .  The  Solan  Goose  is  in  size  somewhat 
less  than  a  Land-Goose.  .  .  .  The  Solan  Geese  are  daily  making  up 
their  Xests  from  March  till  September  ;  they  make  'em  in  the  Shelves 
of  high  Rocks.  .  .  .  The  inhabitants  of  St.  Kilda  excel  all  those  I  ever 
saw  in  climbing  Rocks.  . .  .  This  little  Commonwealth  hath  two  Ropes 
of  about  twenty-four  Fathoms  length  each,  for  climbing  the  Rocks.  .  .  . 
These  poor  People  do  sometimes  fall  down  as  they  climb  the  Rocks, 
and  perish."  —  Martin,  pp.  280-295,  passim. 

169.  tasteful  toil,  i.e.,  appetizing  toil,  which  makes  even  their 
"  frugal  fare  "  taste  well. 

173.  %<i^W^  =  well-born.  The  thought  is  that  even  an  educated 
gentleman  need  not  be  ashamed  to  handle  these  popular  superstitions. 
Cf.  the  apologetic  tone  of  the  preface  to  the  Oriental  Eclogues. 

181-183.   .See  Macbeth,  iv,  i. 

192-205.  ferusalem  Delivered,  by  Torquato  Tasso  (i  544-1 595),  was 
"done  into  English  Heroicall  verse"  by  Edward  Fairfax  in  1600.  The 
following  extracts  (bk.  xiii,  stanzas  41-43,  46)  will  both  explain  the 
allusions  in  Collins's  lines  and  enable  the  reader  to  judge  whether 
the  praise  of  Fairfax's  verse  is  just ;  for  Collins  seems  to  be  speaking  of 
the  translation  and  not  of  the  original,  perhaps  because  he  thought  the 
practice  of  English  poets  who  had  not  disdained  the  "  false  themes  "  of 
the  marvellous  would  have  more  weight  with  his  friend  than  foreign 
poets  could  have. 


75]  NOTES.  135 

He  drew  his  sword  at  last  and  gaue  the  tree 
A  mightie  blow,  that  made  a  gaping  wound, 
Out  of  the  rift  red  streames  he  trickling  see 
That  all  bebled  the  verdant  plaine  around. 
His  haire  start  vp,  yet  once  againe  stroake  he, 
He  nould  giue  ouer  till  the  end  he  found 
Of  this  aduenture,  when  with  plaint  and  mone, 
(As  from  some  hollow  graue)  he  heard  one  grone. 

Enough  enough  the  voice  lamenting  said, 

T altered  ^hovi  hast  me  hurt,  thou  didst  me  driue 

Out  of  the  bodie  of  a  noble  maid. 

Who  with  me  liu'd,  whom  late  I  kept  on  Hue, 

And  now  within  this  woeful  Cipresse  laid, 

My  tender  rinde  thy  weapon  sharpe  doth  riue, 

Cruell,  ist  not  enough  thy  foes  to  kill, 

But  in  their  graues  wilt  thou  torment  them  still  ? 

I  was  Clorinda,  now  imprison'd  heere, 
(Yet  not  alone)  within  this  plant  I  dwell. 
For  euerie  Pagan  Lord  and  Christian  peere, 
Before  the  cities  walles  last  day  that  fell, 
(In  bodies  new  or  graues  I  wote  not  cleere) 
But  here  they  are  confin'd  by  magikes  spell, 
So  that  each  tree  hath  life,  and  sense  each  bou, 
A  murderer  if  thou  cut  one  twist  art  thou. 


Thus  his  fierce  hart  which  death  had  scorned  oft, 
Whom  no  strange  shape,  or  monster  could  dismay, 
With  faigned  showes  of  tender  loue  made  soft, 
A  spirit  false  did  with  vaine  plaints  betray, 
A  whirling  winde  his  sword  heau'd  vp  aloft, 
And  through  the  forrest  bare  it  quite  away. 

215.  ''  Ben  Jonson  undertook  a  journey  to  Scotland  afoot,  in  1619 
[1618-1619],  to  visit  the  poet  [William]  Drummond,  at  his  seat  of 
Hawthornden,  near  Edinburgh.  Drummond  has  preserved  in  his  works 
some  very  curious  heads  of  their  conversation."  —  Note  in  the  Trans- 
actions edition. 

219.  Lothian's  plains.  The  county  of  Lothian,  in  which  Edinburgh 
is  situated. 

attend.  In  the  Aldine  Collins  the  punctuation  is  an  exclamation 
point  and  a  dash,  which  changes  the  sense.  Attend  is  not  in  the 
imperative  mood  and  addressed  to  "  pow'rs  "  ;  it  is  indicative,  and  has 
that  iox  subject.  Tlie  first  imperative  verb  is  lend,  1.  221.  The  Trans- 
actio7is  text  rightly  had  a  comma  after  attend,  although  none  aii&x plains. 


THE  ATHEN.-EUM  PRESS  SERIES. 

Issued  under  the  general  editorship  of 

Professor  George  Lyman  Kittredge,  of  Harvard  University,  and 

Professor  C.  T.  Winchester,  of  Wesleyan  University. 

THE   FOLLOWING  VOLUMES  ABE  NOW  READY: 

Sidney's  Defense  of  Poesy.     Edited  by  Professor  Albert  S.  Cook 

of  Yale  University.     80  cents. 

Ben  Jonson's  Timber ;    or  Discoveries.      Edited  by  Professor  F.  E. 

Schelling  of  the  University  of  Pennsylvania.     80  cents. 

Selections  from  the  Essays  of  Francis  Jeffrey.     Edited  by  Lewis  E. 

Gates  of  Harvard  University.     90  cents. 

Old  English  Ballads.     Edited  by  Professor  F.  B.  Gummere  of  Haver- 
ford  College.    $1.25. 
Selections  from  the  Works  of  Thomas  Gray.     Edited  by  Professor 

W.M.  L.  Phelps  of  Yale  University,     go  cents. 

A  Book  of  Elizabethan  Lyrics.     Edited  by  Professor  F.  E.  Schelling 

of  the  University  of  Pennsylvania.     $1.12. 

Herrick :    Selections  from  the  Hesperides  and  the  Noble  Numbers. 

Edited  by  Professor  E.  E.  Hale,  Jr.,  of  Union  University.     90  cents. 

Selections  from  Keats's  Poems.     Edited  by  Professor  Arlo  Bates  of 

the  Massachusetts  Institute  of  Technology.    $1.00. 

Selections  from  the  Works  of  Sir  Richard  Steele.   Edited  by  Professor 

George  R.  Carpenter  of  Columbia  University.     Cloth,     go  cents. 

Carlyle's  Sartor  Resartus.      Edited  by  Professor  Archibald   Mac- 

Mechax  of  Dalhousie  College,  Halifax,  N.S.     $1.2^. 

Selections  from  Wordsworth's  Poems.     Edited  by  Professor  Edward 

DowDEX  of  the  University  of  Dublin.     $1.25. 

Specimens  of   the   Pre-Shaksperean    Drama.      Edited   by   Professor 

John  M.  Manly  of  Chicago  University.     In  three  volumes.     Vols.  I.  and  II. 
now  ready.     $1.25  each. 

Selections  from  Malory's  Morte  Darthur.     Edited  by  Professor  Wil- 

LiA.M  E.  Mead  of  Wesleyan  University,  Middletovifn,  Conn.     $1.00. 

Burke's  Speech  on  Conciliation  with  America.     Edited  by  Professor 

Ham.mond  Lamont  of  Brown  University.     50  cents. 

Selections  from  Shelley's  Poems.     Edited  by  W.  J.  Alexander  of 

the  University  of  Toronto.     $1.15. 

Selections  from  Landor.      Edited  by  W.  B.  S.  Clymer,  formerly  of 

Harvard  University.     $1.00. 

Selections   from  William   Cowper's   Poems.      Edited   by  James  O. 

Murray  of  Princeton  University.     $1.00. 

Selections  from  Robert  Burns's  Poems.     Edited  by  the  late  John  G. 

Dow,  formerly  of  the  University  of  Wisconsin.     $1.12. 

The  Poems  of  William  Collins.     Edited  by  Walter  C.  Bronson  of 

Brown  University. 

Gibbon's   Memoirs.      Edited   by  Professor  Oliver   F.   Emerson   of 

Western  Reserve  University. 


GINN   &   COMPANY,  Publishers. 


STANDARD  ENGLISH  CLASSICS 


EDITED  BY  COMPETENT  SCHOLARS  WITH  SPECIAL  REFERENCE 
TO  COLLEGE  REQUIREMENTS. 

Tennyson's  The  Princess.  Edited  by  Albert  S.  Cook,  Professor  of 
English  Literature  in  Yale  University.     40  cents. 

Carlyle's  Essay  on  Burns.     Edited  by  Charles  L.  Hanson,  Teacher 

of  English  in  the  Mechanic  Arts  High  School,  Boston,  Mass.     30  cents. 

Macaulay's  Essay  on  Milton.  Edited  by  Herbert  A.  Smith,  Instructor 
in  English  in  Yale  University.     25  cents. 

Macaulay's  Essay  on  Addison.  Edited  by  Herbert  A.  Smith.  35 
cents. 

Macaulay's  Essays  on  Addison  and  Milton.  (In  one  volume.)  Edited  by 
Herbert  A.  S.mith.     50  cents. 

Dryden's  Palamon  and  Arcite.  Edited  by  George  E.  Eliot,  Jr., 
Instructor  in  English  in  Morgan  School,  Clinton,  Conn.     35  cents. 

George  Eliot's  Silas  Mamer.  Edited  by  R.  Adelaide  Witham, 
Teacher  of  English  in  Latin  High  School,  Somerville,  Mass.     50  cents. 

Sir  Roger  de  Coverley  Papers.  From  "  The  Spectator."  Edited  by 
Mary  E.  Litchfield.  cents. 

Coleridge's  Ancient  Mariner.     Edited  by  L.  R.  Gibbs.     25  cents. 

Pope's  Translation  of  the  Iliad.     Books  I.,  VI.,  XXII.,  and  XXIV.     Edited  by 

William  Tatpan.     35  cents. 

Macaulay's  Lays  of  Ancient  Rome.     Edited  by  M.  Grant  Dan i ell, 

recently  Principal  of  Chauncy-Hall  School.  cents. 

Cooper's  Last  of  the  Mohicans.  F^dited  by  John  B.  I3unbar,  Instructor 
in  English  in  the  Boys'  High  School,  Brooklyn,  N.  Y.  cents. 

Shakespeare's  Macbeth.    Edited  by  Rev.  Henry  N.  Hudson.    35  cents. 
Burke's  Speech  on   Conciliation  with  America.     Edited  by  Hammond 

Lamont,  Associate  Professor  of  Rhetoric  in  Brown  University.     40  cents. 

Goldsmith's  Vicar  of  Wakefield.  Edited  by  D.  H.  Muntc.omery. 
40  cents. 

Edmund  Burke's  Letter  to  a  Noble  Lord.  Edited  by  Albert  H.  Smyth, 
Professor  of  English  Literature  in  the  Central  High  School,  Philadelphia. 
30  cents. 

Selections  from  Irving's  Sketch  Book.  Edited,  with  Introduction  and 
Notes,  by  Mary  E.  Litchfield.  cents. 

De  Quincey's  Revolt  of  the  Tartars.  Edited  by  W.  E.  Simonds,  Pro- 
fessor of  English  Literature  in  Knox  College,  Galesburg,  111.     30  cents. 

Milton's  Paradise  Lost,  Books  I.  and  U.,  and  Lycidas.  Edited  by 
Ho.MER  B.  Si'Rague.     40  cents. 


GINN   &  COMPANY,  Publishers, 

Boston.  New  York.  Chicago.  Atlanta.  Dallas. 


./^.^ir  /-vr;  /- AT  li;/-\t>TVTI  A      T  r»C    A'KHZV'l  V<i 


JU 

j 


# 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 

This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


■^'^rmruRr 


JAN   '>    ->   1990 


ii 


968 

1967 


57 
90i 


70 


L  JAN  1  5  1990 


TTTnWET^SITY  of  CALIFORNIA 

AT 

LOS  ANGEL£^ 

LIBRARY 


L  005  837  422  4 


I 


DISCMH) 


PLEAc?:  DO  NOT  REMOVE 
THIS  BOOK  CARD    ] 


A^^t•upRARyJ^: 


University  Research  Library 


